Mothers
by The-Fickle-Lady
Summary: Mothers of the nations, the women whose stories would never be told by the history books, but would live on forever in the hearts of their sons and daughters.
1. Linza of Mediolanum Part 1

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 1: Linza of Mediolanum. Part 1.

* * *

Linza didn't know what was going on. She had never…never done _that_before, so why had she not bled for months now. Her stomach was starting to get larger as well. She could no longer deny it continuously to herself, nor hide it from the rest of the world. If she kept getting bigger, soon she would not be able to hide it from her family. Already, she was sure her mother was suspicious, and her elder sister, Ishild as well. Her father, brother, and younger sister, however, seemed oblivious. But for how much longer, Linza was not sure.

She dressed in dark colors to hide the shadow of her belly and layers to hide the curve. When she was dressed, she finally left her room. She shared her room with Ishild and Hailwic, but these last few months, she had pretended to be asleep, waiting for her sisters to finish dressing and leave before doing so herself. Linza slowly crept into downstairs. The restaurant was already filled with hungry customers, and her family was hard at work when she arrived.

Linza's father barked for her to get to work and she quickly hurried behind the counter to help Ishild with the cooking. "Finally awake, I see," Ishild commented as she joined her. Linza meekly averted her eyes. "I'm sorry, Ishild." She said. Ishild smiled at her, however, and gave her stomach a pointed glance. "Don't be." She whispered, and Linza looked at her elder sister with surprise. Suddenly, Hailwic appeared with a tray in hand. Her red-haired little sister was smiling widely, as usual, and practically bouncing.

"Linza, it's your turn to wait tables today!" Hailwic cheerfully reminded her, holding out the tray for Linza to take. Linza did so and switched places with Hailwic so now she instead stood next to Ishild, kneading dough as well. "I had almost forgotten, thank you for reminding me, Hailwic." Linza remarked, smiling softly at her little sister. Hailwic smiled brightly. "No problem. I just don't want either one of getting yelled at by Vatti." She replied.

Linza gave her father a wary glance. He was on the other side of the restaurant, chatting animatedly with a neighbor of theirs, a bronze smith. Their father was usually a kind soul, but when it came to their family's restaurant, he was not one to be trifled with. Their mother was very much the same. After all, their family was on a slippery slope as it was. In a city of Romans, they were Germanics. While those around them bore brown and black hair and olive skin, they were all fair skinned and fair haired with eyes the color of the sky rather than the dirt, with the exception of Hailwic who had reddish-brown hair and darker blue eyes than the rest of them (Mother said she got them from their father's father). They were one of many Germanic families in the city, yes, but one of the few that could be considered esteemed by any means. That was why Linza feared…No, she told herself, holding her chin high as she walked towards a newly arrived customer. She would not think of such things now. There were customers in need of her service at the moment. Her fears could wait.

* * *

Several hours passed in the day, and eventually business slowed to a trickle of customers. By mid afternoon, it slowed to the point that Linza and her siblings were allowed to sit and idle at an unused table and enjoy some bread and preserves for a snack while their mother and father counter coins at the counter.

"Did you hear the rumor?" Egino, her elder brother, asked as he ripped a bread roll and half. He shoved one half into his mouth and dipped the other in the preserves and then he ate that one as well. "What rumor?" Ishild asked curiously, nibbling on her own roll.

Egino swallowed the bread in his mouth. It was almost comical watching his Adam's Apple bulge out so far to accommodate the food's passage down his throat. "Some famous general arrived in the city earlier today from the Capital." He said. "I heard from one of our customer earlier. He came with twenty legionnaires, whole chests of gold and jewels and clothes, two concubines, his sons and daughter, a senator, a household's worth of servants, and a Germanic body guard to boot."

"Wow, he sounds really important!" Hailwic exclaimed. "Where do you think he's staying?" She asked. Ishild and Egino shrugged. "Probably in one of those big fancy houses a few blocks away." Linza said. She had seen them up close before, once when he father went to go talk with the rich man who lived there. She had never forgotten how beautiful it had been. The architecture, the statues, the garden, and the clothes the people who lived in the house wore. She remembered it all in vivid detail. And it had belonged to a _lowly_nobleman; Linza could only imagine the opulence this general was living in at the moment.

"Do think we'll see him?" Hailwic asked excitedly. "If he's that close by, maybe he'll come here!" She exclaimed. Egino and Ishild exchanged bemused looks. "Rich people don't come and eat at little family restaurants, Hailwic." Egino said. "They eat big fancy meals in their big fancy houses." Ishild added. Hailwic gave a dejected groan. "But I wanted to meet the big important man." She whined, and Linza had to admit, she felt a bit disappointed as well. It wasn't often that one got to meet big important people, especially ones straight from the heart of the empire. She wondered what the important man was like.

Probably tall and handsome, she thought. But he was a general, a soldier, so she supposed he was also a rather stern person as well. Scary even. She shivered, imagining a tall, burly man clad in battle-worn armor with a grim-line for a mouth, a viciously cold glare as mean as the bite of winter, with maybe a cool battle scar over one of his eyes. Linza shook the image from her mind, blushing, cursing herself for conjuring up such a thing in the first place. She only managed to scare herself.

Suddenly, the double doors to the restaurant opened. They all looked up. Hailwic and Linza both gasped quietly, their jaws dropping in awe. Egino stopped chewing the bread he'd stuffed in his mouth a second ago. Ishild was the first one on her feet, back stiff as a board. Their parents hurried from behind the counter to greet their new guests.

A man stood at the front of a small crowd at the entrance to their establishment. He wore a legionnaire's uniform with all honors and a sword at his hip and he had a long, flowing cape the same color as fine wine. He was an older man, with just a hint of gray at his temples and smile lines forming on his face, but he was very handsome. The man had dark brown hair where there wasn't silver hairs popping up, olive skin indicating an active lifestyle, and golden brown eyes that shone with confidence. He had his hands on his hips and was smiling at them all. He exuded an air of magnificence. Beside him was a man who looked about the same age, with long blond hair with a single braid in it while the rest of it hang loose and sharp green eyes. He wore Germanic clothes, armor included, a sword and axe at his sides. They appeared...well used. He wore a long green cape and a serious expression as well. His green eyes focused on Linza. She quickly averted her gaze in fear. She still felt his eyes on her, however.

Behind the two men were two women. One had green eyes and light brown hair up in a bun who wore a simple white chiton with a blue shawl around her shoulders; she had a relaxed demeanor about her and calm, almost lazy smile. Next to her was a woman with darker skin, short black hair that didn't quite seem real that was adorned with gold accessories; she wore a white dress with a lot of gold, blue, and red adornments and patterns at the fringe. She smiled with half-lidded eyes and looked mysterious to Linza. Each woman clasped a child's hand at her side. The relaxed woman held the hand of an olive-skinned girl with light brown hair and golden eyes not much older than Hailwic, and a little boy who was hardly old enough to walk it looked like. He had dark brown hair and olive green eyes and looked very much like the magnificent man in the legionnaire uniform. The mysterious woman held the hand of a dark-skinned boy with half-lidded dark eyes like her who was about the same age as the little boy. He had a shaved head and an eerily calm expression for a child his age. On either side of the women and children were two legionnaires, armed with spears and helms and shields. A man clad in a senator's purple robes stood with them as well. He looked like buzzard in human form to Linza.

"Welcome to our eatery, milord." Linza watched her father greet the man in the flowing red cape. "I am Ewald Clodovicus, the owner of this establishment. And this is my wife, Aveza." He continued, gesturing to himself and Linza's mother. "How may we help you today?" Her father asked politely. The man in the flowing red cape smiled broadly. "I am Aetius Romulus Lupus. This is my body guard and friend, Alwin of Germania." The red caped man said, gesturing to himself and the blond man. He then stepped aside as if allowing them all a better view and gestured to the women and children. "These are my concubines, Helena and Kiya, and these are my children, Sophia, Lovino Romulus Lupus, Gupta, and…" Aetius trailed off and looked around confusedly. "Where are Franciscus and Antonius?" He asked. His entourage all looked about and shrugged, except for the little girl, Sophia. "They're playing with some boys outside in the road." She said. Aetius sighed and made a gesture with his hand. One of the legionnaires turned and walked back out of the restaurant. He returned a moment later with two boys hardly six years of age. One was fair-haired and blue eyes and the other was olive-skinned and green eyed with dark hair. "And these two are Franciscus and Antonius, my eldest and rowdiest sons." Aetius finally finished. The senator stepped forward. "I am Rufinus Octavius Vetus. We have come here in search of someone." The old senator's eyes wandered over to the table Linza and her siblings sat. They all rose to stand like Ishild at that moment.

Linza's father looked between the table and the group of elites confusedly. "What business do you have with my children?" He asked quietly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Just your daughter." The blond man, Alwinsaid. His eyes never left Linza while he said it, and every set of eyes in the room was on her a second later. Linza swore she shrunk a little. "Linza is a good girl. If you suspect her of any wrongdoing, you are wrong!" Her mother protested loudly. Aetius smiled down at her and gave a hand wave of dismissal. "She is not in trouble, do not worry. In fact, she has been given a great honor." Linza's family looked at her with surprise and she backed a few steps away from them all. What was going on? She wondered frantically.

"What sort of honor?" Egino asked bravely, his eyes leaving Linza just long enough to look at Aetius. Before Aetius could answer, his concubines started making their way towards Linza, leading the children towards her as well. Linza's siblings fled the table as they approached so hurriedly Hailwic knocked over a chair in the scramble. Before Linza could do the same, Helena placed a hand on her shoulder and gently forced her to sit down. Linza looked between Helena and Kiya warily. Kiya smiled and took her hand. "Do not be afraid, child. What's happening to you is strange, yes, but it is great as well. You are bringing something truly amazing into the world." She said in soft, accented voice. Helena nodded in agreement. Linza looked between the women and at the children who now sat around the table, looking at her curiously. "W-What am I bringing into the world?" Linza dared to ask. Helena laid a hand on her belly and ran it over the curve there. Linza's eyes widened with surprise and she heard several gasps around the room, most likely from her family. "An entity that no human can truly understand, but what can be best described as unity. The child you bear will represent a people united under a single banner or idea or feeling of togetherness. He or she will be one of us. Not a human, but more." Linza stared at Helena as her blond brows knit together in confusion.

"What?" She asked, because what else was she supposed to ask? Helena chuckled and patted the top of her head as if she were child or a dog. Linza didn't know if she was supposed to feel patronized or..."I suppose it is rather hard to explain." Helena said. "It doesn't matter," Kiya said. "We'll have plenty of time to explain things once we get back to Rome." She said.

Linza stood up so fast her chair fell backwards and hit the stone floor with a loud crash. "Rome?!" She shouted, looking at the women with wide frantic eyes. "You are not taking my child away from me! She is only fourteen!" Linza's mother protested, stepping towards Aetius and Alwin threateningly. Father and Egino restrained her. Ishild held a dreadfully confused looking Hailwic tightly in her arms. "Big sister?" She whispered uncertainly, looking at Linza with wide blue eyes. "I am sorry, but she simply must!" The elderly senator Rufinus shouted. "She carries something far too important to the empire to just leave here in the care of some restaurateurs." Mother fell to her knees, hands clasped together as if to pray. "Please, don't. She's just a girl—she shouldn't even be having a child of any sort. How can you just take her from us?!" Mother pleaded. Father glared at the mysterious people. "My wife is right. Linza is only a child." He growled.

Aetius looked at Linza with a smile then. "So your name is Linza then. Alvin, that name means "kind", correct?" He asked the man beside him. The blond's eyes finally left her for a brief moment as he looked over at his friend. "It means "tender" or "soft". Though some might say "weak" as well." He replied in a gruff, heavily accented voice. He had the same accent as Linza's grandfather, who came to Mediolanum as a foreigner almost half a hundred years ago as hardly more than a boy. He had been from the far north, but had come south to start a new life. Alwinmust have been from the north as well. Aetius shrugged. "Nonetheless, it's a pretty name, fitting for the mother of one of my kin." He said.

Linza looked at him with confusion. "Your kin?" She asked. Aetius nodded. "The child you carry is most likely a relative of mine in some way, or perhaps Alvin's here." Aetius explained. Linza trembled with aggravation. She didn't understand any of this. "But how is that possible? I've never—I mean, don't you have to do certain…_things_to have a baby? Then why am I having one? This isn't fair, I've been a good girl all my life. I've always done all my chores, prayed to the gods, and have been kind to others, Roman and Germanic alike. I love my family and friends and neighbors, my city and its people. I've never done anything bad. I've been a good Roman citizen, even despite having barbarian blood, so why are you punishing me?!" Linza demanded angrily, tears streaming down her face. The strange people all looked at her sympathetically. The senator stepped forward, smiling kindly.

"Yes, you have been a good person. An ideal Germanic-Roman. Which is why this is happening to you." Linza looked at him, perplexed. "But…?" She whispered.

"This is no punishment," Alwinspoke abruptly. "This is a reward."

"What is _this_anyways?" Linza demanded, pointing at her midsection. All the strange people exchanged looks.

"_This_," Aetius said. "is the birth of a whole new realm in my empire."

* * *

**A/N: I've had this one in my head for awhile. Decided to write it. Part 2 will be posted before the month is up, then I'll move onto Prussia.**

**Also, here are some explanations.**

**Mediolanum is Milan.**

**The names are weird, I know but here's why.**

**In Rome, nobility had three names. A given name, a clan (immediate family) name, and a name for their house in general. Grandpa Rome's given name is Aetius, his clan name is Romulus, and his house name is Lupus. The reason his clan name isn't Vargas is because my headcanon is that the Italy brothers didn't adopt Vargas as their last name until after Rome died, in which case their Roman names, Lovino Romulus Lupus and Felicianus Romulus Lupus, both became very outdated, so they had to change them to fit in.**

**The reason the other nations only have one name is because provincial non-Roman citizens only had one name back in the day. Also, France and Spain's names are in their Latin versions…for obvious reasons I guess you figured out pretty easily...**

**Linza and her family have two names because they are Roman citizens, but they don't have three names because three names indicated nobility, and they're just regular citizens.**

**Linza's full name would Linza Clodovica. Because with girls, for their surname, you replace the 'us' with an 'a'.**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it. Please review, follow, and check out my other Hetalia stories.**


	2. Linza of Mediolanum Part 2

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 2: Linza of Mediolanum. Part 2.

* * *

Linza sat on her bed, staring at her lap dejectedly. She felt condemned. After the mysterious people—the nations—had informed her family of the whole truth and proven their story through a number of feats, her parents had been all too willing to hand her over. For the greater good of their society, they seemed to rationalize it. But Linza didn't feel that way. Never in her life before had she felt more used, more betrayed. They said what was happening to her was an honor, but she felt more like she was being punished.

She didn't look up from her lap even when her sisters quietly entered the room. Hailwic wordlessly came and sat with her elder sister and leant her head against Linza's shoulder. Ishild came to kneel before her little sisters and take Linza's hands into her own. She ran her thumb over the top of Linza's left hand in a soothing gesture. "Don't look so sad." Ishild said quietly, meeting her eyes. "Like Hellas and Aegyptus said, this is a great thing you are doing. You're not just bringing a person into the world, but a whole new national identity. You're a sacred vessel of Tellus, Linza." Linza looked up then at her sister, revealing red eyes and a trembling bottom lip. "They're going to take me away." She said with a cracked voice. "Away from Vatti, Mutti, you two, Egino, and Mediolanum. All of it." She ran hand over the soft curve of her belly. "Even my baby. They'll take him as well." She sobbed. Hailwic wrapped her arms around her big sister and squeezed her tightly. "No they won't! They can't!" The auburn-haired girl protested. "And if they try, I'll kick 'em, bite 'em, or even kill 'em." Hailwic shouted with conviction. Linza and Ishild looked at her with amused smiles and Linza wiped away her tears with a laugh. "You promise?" She asked, and Hailwic nodded eagerly. Linza reached out and tucked a strand of auburn hair behind Hailwic's ear. "Thank you, little sister." She whispered, and Hailwic smiled brightly at her.

That smile and her little sister's innocent promises helped her sleep that night.

* * *

The next morning, for the first time in weeks, Linza rose with her sisters at dawn and dressed alongside them, though it was uncomfortable with Hailwic curiously eyeing her stomach and asking to touch it. When they headed down to the restaurant, customers were already filling the dining hall, eager for breakfast to start their days. Mother called Ishild immediately to join her in the kitchens, while Hailwic grabbed a pitcher of water off the counter and headed over to a table to fill some customers' cups. Linza joined Egino and Father behind the counter. Egino was counting out the change for a customer while their father was loading a tray full of meals to be served around the room to different customers. Linza walked past her father to get the brush and bucket hidden under the counter. Today was her turn to scrub the floors.

"No, Linza." Her father said, grabbing the bucket and brush from her hands when he saw her. Linza looked at him with confusion. "But Vatti, isn't it my turn today?" She asked. Father shook his head. "You won't be working, today. Or tomorrow for that matter. For the good of the baby. Besides, Lady Hellas and Lady Aegyptus are coming to take you shopping for new clothes." He said. Linza looked at him despair. "But, Vatti, I can still work." She protested. "Women work all the time, even while with child. Mutti did!" Father simply shook his head. "This is no ordinary child you carry, Linza. Now go back upstairs and I will call you down when they arrive." He commanded. Normally, Linza might have rejoiced not having to do chores, a very, very rare occurrence, but at the moment, her father's words made her want to scream with outrage. Linza wanted so badly to argue, to protest, and scream and shout why she shouldn't have to do all this or that she didn't want her life to change even if it meant continuing to do boring old chores, but her voice failed her when she opened her mouth. With a sigh, she shuffled her feet back upstairs to her bedroom to await further humiliation.

* * *

Hellas and Aegyptus came for her with an escort of two legionnaires at around noon, and took her straight to the villa they were staying at. It was only a few blocks away, but it itself took up a block at least. Linza was amazed at it. It reminded her of that home she had been when she was a little girl with her father, only it was twice as beautiful. Linza couldn't help but admire it even if just an hour before hand she had dreaded the sight of it. If this was what the Roman Empire's holiday home looked like, she wondered what his estate in the capital city looked like.

When she arrived, she was given an audience with Rome himself. He sat on a throne-like chair on a platform in a large chamber, framed by two walls, the back opening up into the garden behind him. Beside him stood Germania, at his feet his children clustered. Linza was distantly aware of the fact one day her own child would sit among those children, laughing and playing with them as their brother or sister or perhaps something else. The nations hadn't been clear with her of how their familial relations to one another were defined. Hellas vaguely described her situation as being normal when no female nation was around to directly produce the being that would represent a certain region, though she indicated there was another way of such a being coming into existence, completely without the help of a human or nation mother. She also once referred to someone known as Gaia, but never elaborated on whom she was. Linza didn't ask. In all honesty, she was sure if she knew any more about the nations her head would explode.

Rome smiled at her when she entered the chamber with his concubines.

"Good morning, Linza." He greeted her gladly. "Don't you look lovely this morning? Tell me, do you feel well?" Rome asked. Linza regarded him dubiously.

"Of course. Am I not supposed to?" She asked nervously. Was she supposed to get really sick because of the thing growing inside her? She wondered worriedly. Rome grimaced uncomfortably on his throne. "Hellas? Aegyptus?" He said, looking to his lovers for assistance.

Hellas and Aegyptus exchanged wry smiles and Aegyptus laid a comforting hand on Linza's shoulder. "Morning sickness, dear. Women tend to lose the contents of their stomachs often when with child. I know I did." She said softly in Linza's ear. Linza felt her stomach churn in an unpleasant fashion. "Just in the mornings?" Linza asked hopefully. Hellas snorted. "I wish."

"Enough talk about vomiting." Rome said, looking just as queasy at the subject as Linza felt. "Why don't you show Linza to her new wardrobe and help her figure out what fits and what she likes so she can wear it on our journey." He said, gesturing to a large doorway. Hellas and Aegyptus bowed. "Of course." They both said and made towards the door. Linza followed them hesitantly, sending a pleading look at Germania as she did. He seemed to be the only one not happy about her current situation. Linza wondered if he felt the same way she did about all this. Like it was a curse rather than a blessing.

* * *

Hellas and Aegyptus spoke as they dressed her with the help of a servant woman. Sadly for Linza, they spoke in languages she didn't understand. How they understood each other, she did not know. All she knew was that it was irritating that they giggled and whispered right before her very eyes and she'd didn't have a clue what about.

"Please speak Latin." She eventually pleaded. Hellas and Aegyptus looked up at her in surprise, as if they had forgotten the person they were dressing wasn't just some doll. Hellas smiled. "Of course. We forgot you were human is all." Human. The word sounded foreign almost to Linza. No one had ever called her a human. They had called her a child, a girl, and even a young woman on occasion, but never simply a human. It was just another reminder that the people she was speaking to weren't people at all. The thought frightened her.

"Will my child be able to do that, too?" She asked quietly. Hellas smiled at her unperturbed.

"Without a doubt. It's one of the few abilities we all share." She replied.

"Abilities?" Linza whispered. Aegyptus nodded.

"Semi-immortality, enhanced physical abilities—though some more than others, the ability to travel long distances in short periods of time, the ability to sense others of our kind, and understand each other regardless of the language we speak. Though the same doesn't apply to other nations' peoples." She explained. Linza stared at the woman. That sounded like more than a few to her…

"S-so, he'll be strong?" Linza asked. Hellas and Aegyptus nodded. Linza hoped that that would have made her feel better, but it didn't. It just made the thing growing inside her seem more bizarre. She looked down at her stomach and wondered what in the world was growing inside her not for the first time. She flinched when Aegyptus laid a hand against the curve.

"Don't be afraid." Aegyptus said. "Even if it isn't human like you, it's still your baby. Some of him will always be you. You will live on for centuries in his heart and soul, in his mannerisms and pastimes, in his eyes and his hair. You'd be amazed at how much of a parent can live on in their child, even if that child is a different gender." Gender wasn't necessarily Linza's primary concern, but she didn't say anything. Aegyptus' kind smile up at her didn't deserve to be met with snark. "Tell me, how do you imagine it?" Aegyptus asked from on her knees below her.

"How I…imagine it?" Linza asked. Hellas laughed. "Surely you've thought about it. Do you think of it as a boy, or a girl? Does she have your long straight blond hair? Does he have your blue eyes? Your mother's nose, your father's chin? Your brother's broad shoulders, your sister's smile?" She asked, her green eyes twinkling. Linza felt her cheeks burn. "I…I don't know." She stammered. Hellas and Aegyptus laughed softly and stood up to their full heights.

"I suppose you'll have time to do so in the future. Now come and look at your self." Hellas said as she and Aegyptus guided her towards a looking glass. Linza braced herself to see herself looking ridiculous in the layers of rich fabrics they had wrapped her in and jewels they hang on her. Instead, she froze at her own reflection.

"I…" She breathed. Hellas and Aegyptus smiled at her. "You look beautiful."

Truly, she did look like some noblewoman in the clothes they had dressed her in. In all the glamour, you couldn't tell she was some peasant girl at all. Even her now-made obvious pregnancy could not detract from her appearance. In the back of her head, Linza wondered why the nations would be so kind as to give her so much, if only temporarily. What could they gain from dressing her up like a true Lady? But that part of her that wondered could not compare to the part of her that was young and naive and just too happy at what was in the mirror in front of her to care. She allowed herself to take childish delight in this small moment.

* * *

She returned home that evening in the clothes she had left in. The clothes Hellas and Aegyptus had dressed her in would be packed away for her to wear when…when they took her to the capital. The beautiful clothes didn't make that any less daunting. She was walked home by a legionnaire that Rome had called Balbus. It was near dark and quiet, the only sound filling the city streets coming from instead different buildings, most resturants and brothels, and a few barking dogs in the distance. They were always in the distance, Linza thought vaguely. She couldn't remember actually coming across one of those barking dogs.

"So…" Balbus began when they were halfway back to her family's home. "Are you to marry General Romulus?" He asked. Linza looked at him with a disgusted expression.

"He's old enough to be my father!" She shouted, her face heating up. Balbus flushed as well. "I-I apologize, it's just…what am I supposed to think?" He stammered. Linza scowled at him. "I don't know, but certainly not that!" She said. "Well then why else is he being so nice to you? You're of no higher rank than me, socially. You're just some restaurateurs' daughter. Yet a respected general is going to take you to the capital, and to do what? Have that child?" Balbus said, giving her stomach a pointed look. Linza covered it with her arms. "You're being cruel." She grumbled, scowling at him. Balbus scoffed. "You think I'm being cruel. Wait till you get to Rome." He said, and Linza wanted to ask what he meant, but they had arrived at the front of her family's restaurant.

"This is where I leave you." He said, bowing. Linza bowed as well.

She watched Balbus leave, back in the direction of the villa, and then entered the restaurant. It was packed to the rafters with customers, smelled of wine and her mother's delicious cooking. Linza made a beeline for the kitchens, hoping to grab herself a plate.

"Linza!" A voice called. Linza looked around the restaurant. She recognized that voice. "Petronia!" Linza called out, and suddenly, a girl with long dark hair stood above the crowd, arms high above her head. "Linza!" She shouted with a grin. "Petronia!" Linza cried, Petronia jumped off the table she had been standing on, and the two girls flew across the restaurant towards each other. Linza hugged her friend tightly. "Oh Petronia, I didn't know you were back from Padua." Linza said into her friend's hair. Petronia laughed. "I only got back this morning. I came to see you, but your parents said you were out. With a boy, I wonder?" Petronia asked teasingly as she pulled away from Linza's embrace. "No." Linza protested embarrassedly, causing Petronia to laugh. "You did! You did go to see a boy!" Petronia exclaimed, pulling Linza into another tight hug. She pulled away from her a split second later with wide brown eyes. She looked between them at the soft swell of Linza's stomach. "Apparently for longer than I thought." Petronia said, staring at the bump with wide eyes. Linza laughed nervously.

"Actually, a boy wasn't exactly…involved in my situation." Linza whispered, plastering an uneasy grin onto her face. Her friend stared at her blankly. "Please tell me this isn't Bethlehem all over again." She said with an exasperated tone. "It isn't, I swear, just…let me explain things." Linza said hurriedly. Petronia sighed. "Fine. But you better have a better excuse than 'God did it' to explain this mess." Linza nodded, took her friend's hand and led her upstairs to her family's apartment.

* * *

"Countries are people?" Petronia asked with a blank stare. Linza nodded.

"Including the Roman Empire, Germania, Hellas, Aegyptus, and basically every other country or regional national identity in the world?" Linza nodded again.

"And they've come here for you, because you are basically an ideal citizen of this region, being a Germanian-Roman citizen, thus making you the optimal candidate to give birth to the nation representing our region?" Linza nodded a third time, this time Petronia joining her. "Yes, yes, it all makes sense now…You are obviously _completely_mad!" Petronia shouted, standing up on Ishild's bed and pointing down at Linza accusingly. Linza stood as well. "I am not, and if you don't believe me, you can come with me to Rome's villa tomorrow and they can show you! Please, Petronia, you have to believe me—if my best friend can't believe any of this and support me, then how can I be expected to wrap my head around my situation?" Linza pleaded. Petronia looked at her with puckered lips for a long moment before jumping off the bed to stand before Linza with her hands on her hips.

"Fine. Say I do actually believe this…I don't even know what this is, what can I do? These beings are clearly more powerful than any of us if what you say is true. We can't stop them, or this thing from being born. What do you want me to do, Linza?" Petronia asked with grave look on her usually so bright and cheerful face.

"Be there for me." Linza answered, though it sounded more like a plea, even to her own ears. Petronia's gaze softened and her hands dropped from her hips. She opened her arms to her friend and Linza stepped into them without a second thought. The two friends embraced each other tightly.

"The man who walked me home warned me that the capital will be a cruel place, and…I do not wish to be alone there. You've there once before, right?" Linza asked in a whisper into Petronia's dark hair.

"My father is a merchant, of course I have." Petronia replied, running a soothing hand through Linza's hair down her back. Linza took a deep breath.

"Then please come with me." She requested.

"Of course." Petronia said, not showing the slightest bit of reluctance.

"And not just you. I want my brother and sisters to come as well, and my parents, too, if possible." Linza continued.

"Do you think they'll allow it?" Petronia asked quietly, pausing in her brushing.

"If they don't, then I swear that they will never get their hands on my baby." Linza muttered and for a few hours, she allowed herself to be comforted by her girlhood friend.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, looks like this one is going to extend into a three-parter. Sorry, but I swear this arc will be over before the month is up.**

***When Ishild said Linza was a vessel of Tellus, she was referring to the Roman goddess who was essentially Mother Earth.**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the story so far and will review and follow it, as well as check out my other Hetalia fics. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Linza of Mediolanum Part 3

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 3: Linza of Mediolanum. Part 3.

* * *

Linza kissed her mother on both cheeks. They were wet with tears, just like her own. Despite Linza's wishes, her mother nor her father or elder sister would not join her on her journey to Rome. They simply couldn't leave the business alone and Ishild was set to marry a smith's son within a few months.

At least she had Egino and Hailwic and Petronia, Linza thought as she reluctantly pulled away from her mother's embrace.

They were at the south gate to the city. Linza had never left Mediolanum herself before, but she had come to the gates of the city many times to see off Petronia when her father would take her along with him to travel up and down the peninsula, buying, selling, and trading spices and pottery. Petronia related these long journeys to Linza many times, but now it was her turn to see the world beyond the walls of Mediolanum for herself. In a few moments, she would leave the city of her birth for the first time for Rome where she would give birth to a child that would not be truly hers or even human. It like something out of an Aegean drama.

Linza ran a hand over the swell of her belly. Under her fingers, the fine fabric felt foreign and it probably was. She was wearing some of the new clothes that Rome gave her to help her blend in with society once she got to Rome, where she would play the part of his honored guest until she gave birth. Linza had gotten many stares from her neighbors that morning when she and her family left home to meet Rome and his entourage at the gates. Their whispers made her face flush and hang her head in shame. Petronia and Ishild had squeezed her hands to comfort her as her lifelong neighbors and friends who had once smiled at her as she passed whispered behind her back about her being no better than some common prostitute.

When they had arrived at the gates, an entire caravan was there, ready to start on the long road south to the capital. Rome had stepped forth and greeted her with a smile and a hug, and Hellas and Aegyptus smiled at her graciously. Germania, as usual, greeted her with only a nod of his head from where he stood next to two horses. One was his, one was Rome's, and both were as anxious to get moving as they were powerful looking. There was a wagon nearby for Linza, the children, her brother, and Hellas and Aegyptus. It was ornate in nature but not so much so that it was nonfunctional. The children were all already inside it, though the older boys, Franciscus and Antonius, looked eager to climb out. Fortunately, Sophie diligently kept her eyes on her younger half-brothers.

Rome had told Linza that she should say her goodbyes quickly as they needed to get on the road soon. Linza did so, painful as it was. First, she hugged her father and kissed his bearded cheek. Her father pressed a kiss to her forehead and when he pulled away, Linza was sure she saw tears brimming in his eyes. She had been shocked; she had never seen her father cry in all her life. It made her want to do the same so badly. Next, she embraced Ishild. Her elder sister ran her fingers through her hair as they hugged. It reminded Linza of those nights when they would play with each other's hair, braiding it the way their mother had taught them, practicing so they could do the braids as elegantly as she did someday. Ishild gave her a reassuring smile when they parted and whispered that if she could, she would come too, but for Linza to remember she'd be there with her in spirit. Finally, Linza found herself in her mother's arms. Her mother hugged her the tightest. She always had, ever since Linza was a little girl. Her mother's embraces had always bordered on crushing and perhaps even uncomfortable. Her mother was by no means a dainty woman, but she was affectionate, so even when she felt like her back might break, Linza could never say she hated her mother's hugs or ask her to let go. Especially now…

"When you come back, tell your mother about all the wonderful things you saw," Mother whispered when she released Linza from her hold. Linza nodded her head staunchly. Her mother bit her lip and her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. She reached out to wipe away some of her child's tears. "I love you." She said, her voice breaking. A fresh wave of tears hit Linza. "I love you, too." She replied.

Egino took her hand then and started pulling her towards the wagon. Linza tried to hold onto her mother's hand as long as possible, but eventually, the distance between her forced her to let their intertwined fingers slip apart. Linza's hand dropped to her side and she dejectedly climbed into the wagon, followed shortly by Egino. Hailwic wrapped her skinny arms around her waist and buried her face in Linza's shoulder. She was crying as well. Linza looked over at Egino. Like their father, his eyes were brimming with tears that Linza knew he would never quite shed out of some stupid manly sense of pride until no one was looking. Idiot, Linza thought, they should all cry together. Linza leant her head against her brother's shoulder and let her tears fall freely as the wagon started moving.

* * *

Linza watched her little sister play with Rome's children in the tall, yellow grass of the meadow. They were playing a game of hide-and-go-seek. Antonius was 'it' and was trying to find his siblings and new friend amongst the grass, though it was shaping up to be much harder than he initially thought. Giggling filled the air and occasionally, when Antonius 's back was turned, one of the children's heads would pop up from the grass to make faces at the back of his skull or they would make loud obnoxious noises causing Antonius to whip around only to find nothing but grass. Hailwic's auburn-haired head popped up the most often.

Egino and Petronia sat beside Linza under a nearby tree that sat along the edge of the grassy meadow near the path that ran alongside the field. Egino snacked on some beard that he had gotten from the inn their traveling party had stopped at nearby. Petronia was bathing in the sun, just outside the tree's shadow. Linza was sure she was asleep, though. Linza herself watched the children play, feeling sick with jealousy among other things.

They had been on the road for nearly a week and would arrive in Rome within a few more. It felt like an eternity to Linza however. Traveling made her stomach queasy and sitting in that wagon for so long made her hind end and back hurt in ways that not even scrubbing muddy floors back at her family's restaurant had. This made a part of her actually long for Rome, because maybe there she might start feeling better. Though she knew that was unlikely. Hellas and Aegyptus warned her about all the ailments that came with child-bearing and most of them did not rely on long, agonizing hours of traveling to manifest.

Linza stood up from beneath the tree, suddenly feeling incredibly bored and just a bit peckish. Egino looked at her with a raised eyebrow as he licked his fingers free of crumbs. "Where are you going?" He asked. "Somewhere. I just need to get up and stretch my legs for a bit." Linza answered. She started walking down the dirt path back to the inn, which lay in a cluster of trees not far from the main road. "Be careful." Egino warned her. She nodded her head, but nonetheless took no particular care to watch her step as she walked the path towards the inn.

"Where is your brother?" Linza jumped at sound of the gruff voice. She looked around frantically, her eyes eventually finding the voice's owner leaning against one of the trees lining the path leading to the inn's front entrance.

"Germania!" She gasped. Linza suddenly became very nervous. While she honestly couldn't say she was very fond of the any of the nations, Linza would have been lying if she said she wasn't scared by Germania. He never smiled, ever as far as she knew, but even if that stone cold expression of his did crack once in awhile, he only ever looked at her with a scowl. Which made the fact he stared at her for seemingly no apparent reason sometimes all the creepier. Linza didn't really believe he would hurt her, but that didn't stop her from being afraid of the man and all the frighting ideas her mind conjured up sometimes about him. Sometimes, she'd steal a glance at those weapons he always kept at his side, the axe and the sword, and she'd think about all the things he must have done with them in the past.

"Where is your brother? You shouldn't wander alone." Germania repeated as he stepped away from the tree and towards her. Linza looked down at her feet.

"He's watching the children." Linza said.

"And that friend of yours?" Germania asked.

"Petronia? Oh, she's asleep." She paused a moment. "I don't need an escort everywhere. I was just going on a walk." She said, realizing the reason why Germania was suddenly so talkative.

Germania took another step towards her. She grew slightly more nervous.

"You do. I will accompany you. Where are you going?" Germania said.

Linza wanted to protest, but Germania was such a scary man…

"I was just going to go walk around the inn, maybe go down to the kitchens."

"Are you hungry?" Germania asked. Linza shook her head.

"No, not really anyways. I was actually thinking of doing some cooking."

"Cooking?" Germania asked with a raised eyebrow. Linza nodded sheepishly.

"It's…a hobby. Or, at least it is now. It used to be my job, or rather, part of my job back home."

"At your family's restaurant, I assume. Forgive me, but are your parents from my land?" Germania asked as they rounded one corner of the inn. They passed a window to the main hall, and from within, they could hear Rome, Hellas, and Aegyptus laughing along with several humans. Linza remembered them having a sort of small, drunken party last time she had been inside the inn. When she had last seen Rome, he was somewhat tipsy. He must have been very drunk by now, Linza imagined. Germania's eternal scowl deepened as they passed the window however and the thought of a drunken Rome became far less amusing.

"No, my grandparents, my father's parents, were. My mother's grandparents were as well." Linza answered. She could remember her father's parents somewhat. She remembered her grandfather's stories better than the actual person and his accented, aged voice telling the stories especially. He had been such a good story teller, Linza remembered fondly. She and Germania came to a door at the back of the building a moment later. They entered it to find the kitchens where an older woman was chopping greens. She looked up at them at the sound of the door shutting behind them.

"Would you like something?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She would like to cook something." Germania answered for Linza. The woman looked confused.

"Is she hungry? I could make her some—"

"She would like to cook for herself, thank you." Germania said. The woman looked between Linza and Germania warily.

"Are you sure you can handle yourself?" The woman asked Linza, eyeing her up and down. She must have been distrustful of her culinary skills because of her clothes. Noblewomen didn't often learn how to cook their own meals after all. Linza nodded eagerly however and reluctantly the woman left the kitchens, leaving Linza and Germania alone. Linza started chopping the greens the woman had been at when they had arrived while Germania leaned against a counter with his arms crossed over his chest. While she chopped, Linza began humming a tune.

"Who taught you that?" Germania asked suddenly after the first verse. Linza nearly dropped the knife in her hand in surprise. She had almost forgotten he was there.

"Uh, well, my mother. Why do you ask?"

"That's a lullaby of my people. I sing it to my own children." Germania said.

"You have children?" Linza asked in surprise. Germania nodded.

"Are you surprised?" He asked, sounding irritated. Linza started to panic.

"No, no, no! I mean, you just didn't strike me as paternal—no wait, I mean, no one had mentioned you having them, and I just never thought about it! It's not like I thought you were too scary to be a father or any—"

"Linza," Germania said abruptly and calmly, his green eyes wide as they locked with hers. Linza froze.

"Yes?" Linza croaked.

"Put down the knife." Linza hadn't even realized how tightly she had the knife gripped in her hand. She slowly put it down on the counter, giggling nervous. Germania simply frowned.

"You speak with your hands." He said, his eyes narrowed at the knife she had just been holding distrustfully.

"So I have been told." Linza muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Germania asked.

"Nothing. Now back to your children. Do you have as many as Rome?" Linza asked, wishing to change the topic. She took the greens she had chopped up and put them in a pot, she then took a jug of water and poured all its contents into the pot, and set the pot over the open flame of kitchen's hearth. As she did all this, Germania shifted uneasily foot to foot, oddly quite for a man who had just been asked a rather simple question.

"More." He finally whispered. Linza gaped at him, nearly spilling the pot as she carried it over to the fire.

"What?" She exclaimed in surprise. Germania sighed and seemed to visibly sag at her reaction.

"You heard me. Last head count I did, I had twenty-some sons and daughters." He replied gruffly, but Linza could have sworn he was embarrassed. She would have put money on that being a blush coming to his features.

"Oh, well…" Linza struggled for something so say to change the awkward topic. To think Germania had even more children-twenty some or _more-_than the Roman Empire. He must have been more virile than she originally thought. She busied her hands to keep from ringing them nervously by grabbing some salted meat to cut up. As she picked up her knife again, a thought suddenly struck her and her stomach started churning.

"Were…were all their mothers like me?" She asked hesitantly, avoiding eye contact with Germania as she spoke.

"No. There are other ways for my kind to be born. Some come from the land itself, almost out of nowhere, others come from physical unions between our kind. Several of my children came from the land, and a few from women of my kind, though some came from similar situations as yours." Germania explained. It infuriated Linza inside to hear her situation was completely avoidable but she held her tongue and her incensed chopping of the meat became the only indication of her anger.

"Who is looking after your children while you're away?" Linza asked a moment later.

"I have left many of them in different villages all over my land, under the care of families of humans I trust to care for them properly. Some are with their mothers however and some even live on their own, even helping to raise one or two of their younger siblings."

"Do you…do you allow the human mothers to keep the children?" Germania was quiet for a long time.

"For a time." He finally answered.

"Will Rome allow me the same luxury?" Germania went silent again for far too long. Linza slammed her knife down on the meat in anger and glared at the blond man viciously.

"_Well?_" She seethed. Germania hesitated a moment and opened his mouth to speak.

"Linza!" Petronia's voice called. Germania shut his mouth and a moment later, Petronia stood in the doorway to the kitchens. "There you are. Come on, Hellas and Aegyptus invited us to the bathhouse with them. Let's go!" Linza looked down at the meat she had savagely chopped and back over her shoulder at the boiling pot of greens. She sneaked a discreet glance at Germania, who looked almost relieved for Petronia's arrival.

"I'm in the middle of cooking," Linza said to her friend apologetically. But really, she was more interested in what Germania had been about to say than whether or not she completed the dish she was currently preparing.

"I'll take care of it. You go." Germania said, and before Linza could protest, Petronia was thanking him and dragging her out the door, giggling.

"So…" Petronia began with a wink as they walked around the inn to the front of the building. "What were you and Germania up to?" Linza felt her cheeks heat up and she gaped at her friend with horror.

"Petronia, you have the filthiest mind, I swear!" Linza shouted. Petronia snorted.

"Clearly you haven't talked to that Franciscus kid yet."

* * *

Linza tried to speak again to Germania several times on their way to the capital. He was the only one who seemed willing to give her straight answers and not just soothing words of comfort and advice about her condition like Hellas and Aegyptus. Unfortunately, he seemed as intent on avoiding her as she was on getting close to him to ask her questions. By the time they arrived in Rome weeks later, Linza was nursing a silent loathing for the Germanic man and his avoidance of her.

When they arrived in the capitol city of the Empire, however, Linza temporarily forgot all those questions in favor of being amazed at everything around her. It was like Mediolanum times ten. That's at least what Engino exclaimed within their first few hours of riding into the metropolis. When the got to Rome's villa, however, not even excitable Hailwic had any words for what met their small party's eyes. Linza was correct, it turned out. His temporary home in Mediolanum was _nothing _in comparison to what Rome had in his own capitol. The villa was simply put, the epitome of what sort of place an embodied Empire should live in. The structure was magnificent, the staff diligent and attentive, and the atmosphere majestic. "What a way to live..." Linza remembered mumbling as she entered the villa for the first time and took in all its beauty.

Rome, the person, announced shortly upon their arrival his intention of holding a party to welcome her to the city, and so Linza's first days in the capital were spent held up in her room, being dressed and undressed over and over like a doll, and being schooled on basic etiquette. The same applied to her siblings and Petronia from what Hellas and Aegyptus told her. Linza found she saw little of the people she actually wished to keep close up until the night of the party, when they were all reunited for a night of fun.

Nobles started arriving at Rome's villa hours before sunset. Rome had her stand beside him as he greeted each and everyone one of them. That night, instead of Hellas or Aegyptus, she was to operate as the hostess of the party, meaning when dinner began, she sat next to Rome, on a dais above the rest of the revelry. Germania, as well as two legionnaires stood behind hers and Rome's chairs.

He was so close…it made Linza anxious. She wished she could be brave-or at the very least, incredibly forward-and just blurt out all her questions to him, but Rome was right next to her and she imagined he would interfere without a second thought. He'd pat her cheek or stomach reassuringly, tell her how she glowed and what she was doing was something grand, just like he always did when she attempted to ask him questions. At times, it worked and made her feel better, but in the long term, Linza would rather have real answers to her questions.

Linza stood from her seat and started climbing down from the dais. If she couldn't ask Germania any of her questions, she might as well not even be around him, she figured.

"Where are you off to?" Rome asked curiously.

"Oh, to mingle." Linza replied. "Or maybe sit with my siblings for a bit."

Rome nodded understandingly. "By all means, do. Just be careful. Some of our guests can be rather rude, even to pretty girls like you." He said, and Linza nodded, though his words and the wink he added to them made her face heat up. She hurriedly made her way towards where Egino and Petronia were sitting at the other end of the hall.

"I have never eaten so much at once in my life!" Egino exclaimed upon seeing her, holding up his half-empty plate as if it were proof of his proclamation. Beside him, Petronia rolled her eyes. "One would have never have guessed." She said dryly, poking Egino's stomach. He had always been on the thick side like their mother. Egino glared at her. "Shut up! I'm just trying to take in the atmosphere." He snapped. "Take it in? More like inhale." Petronia jibed.

Linza watched the two bicker back and forth for several moments, smiling at them fondly, when she suddenly felt skinny arms wrap around her waist. She twisted around to see who owned them.

"Hailwic! Where have you been?" Linza asked, wrapping her arms around her little sister in return. Her auburn-haired little sister smiled brightly up at her.

"I was playing with Franciscus and Antonius . You should come and play, too!" Hailwic exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, Hailwic, but I shouldn't." Hailwic tilted her head at her in confusion as if the words that had just come out of her mouth were of a foreign tongue.

"Why?" She asked.

"Because, well…" Linza couldn't quite think of a reason. At least, one that Hailwic might understand.

"Because she is not a child like you." A stranger sitting nearby said curtly.

"Yes she is." Hailwic protested. The stranger snorted into his cup of wine.

"She is not. Children do not bear children." He said snidely. Linza scowled at the man for taking such a tone with her sister, but she didn't say anything, because despite his apparent lack of manners, the man was right.

Hailwic looked ready to protest, and seeing this, Linza quickly pulled her away and out onto the veranda attached to the dining hall. It was dark out and overlooked the gardens where several children played.

"That man is wrong." Hailwic said vehemently. "You are so a child. Just like me and Egino. You're only fourteen." She said.

"I can't be a child anymore." Linza told her sister gently. Hailwic crossed her arms defiantly.

"Why not?" She asked.

"Because I can't be a mother and a child at the same time." Linza answered honestly. It was a simple fact she herself had figured out not too long after realizing her predicament.

"Who says?" Hailwic challenged.

"Well, no one, it's just…it's just how things are."

"Well things aren't fair then!" Hailwic shouted. Linza wanted to protest, to quell her little sister's willfulness with something factual, but she knew, or at least felt, she was right. Things weren't fair.

Linza thought back to the meadow where she watched Hailwic and the other children play. They weren't much younger than her—or at least didn't look it—and acted as such. Months ago, Linza wouldn't have hesitated in joining her sister and her newfound friends in a game. Now, she wished she could, but she couldn't…

"Just go play." Linza said quietly. Hailwic huffed and turned on her heel. She raced away from her elder sister who watched on with mournful blue eyes and when she was gone, Linza headed back inside. She headed towards where Egino and Petronia sat, now speaking to some Roman nobles of a similar age to them.

"So Aetius has got a new one," Linza heard someone whisper as she passed. She felt eyes on her back. Nothing new for that evening considering she was the hostess, but this time it felt different. Similar to how it had felt back in Mediolanum as she had journeyed to the south gate of the city along with her family to leave for Rome. Linza slowed her pace ever so slightly.

"Most likely. She's the hostess tonight, so that must mean something." Another voice whispered.

"But she's so _young_." Someone else said. Someone scoffed.

"Not that young. I was married when I was her age. Besides, it doesn't appear to have stopped him." The voice scoffed again. "And look how she flaunts it. The moment I saw her, I could see she was bearing a child. They aren't wed; she carries a bastard—like that Lovino boy—she shouldn't act so overconfident."

"Yes, yes. She'll disappear as quickly as that last one did in all probability."

"What do you mean 'confident'? Have you looked at the girl? They may have put her in the right clothes, but we can all tell she's just a common girl. Probably got sold into Aetius' bed; he's such a romantic, he's probably putting on this whole show to try and placate the girl before she gets tossed aside."

"Poor dear." A voice cooed, and Linza just couldn't take it. She took off running out of the hall. She ran and ran and ran until she found herself in the gardens. She could hear children laughing and saw them too, but paid no attention to them. She ripped out the earrings Aegyptus had given her and tossed them aside, not caring how much her ears hurt now. "Stupid," She seethed to herself. She threw away the wrap Hellas had put around her shoulders, letting it get tangled in the branches of some bush as she passed it. "Letting them treat you like some doll," She grounded out bitterly. With a violent yank, she freed her hair of the ties her maids had put it in earlier that evening, letting it fall freely down her back. "Letting them distract you with shiny trinkets like some silly child." She mumbled brokenly. Tears streaming down her face, she found a rock to sit on in the corner of the garden, near a tall wall. She collapsed there and sobbed into her hands, cursing the nobles under her breath.

"Are you alright?" Linza looked up to see Germania standing nearby. She furiously wiped away her tears.

"What do you want?" She snapped. Germania approached her, unperturbed by her tone.

"Rome sent me after you. Now, are you alright?" He repeated gravely. Linza scowled at him.

"Yes. Now will you go?"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." Germania said, crouching down before her. Linza tried to look away from his hard green eyes, but he took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him straight in the eye.

"Tell me." He said. Linza bit her lip. "Tell me." Germania said again, more forcefully.

"The nobles…I heard them talking behind my back…" Linza whispered. Germania released her chin with a sigh.

"Don't listen to them. They only gossip because they have nothing better to do. By tomorrow, they will forget your very existence and you will forget theirs." Linza shook her head at his words.

"No…no, I won't. They thought I was some whore of Rome's, pitied and belittled me, and, and I don't deserve it. I don't deserve it or anything else that is happening to me!" Linza shouted, rising to her feet right alongside her anger. Germania stood as well.

"I didn't want my childhood ripped away from me. I didn't ask to be torn away from my family. And I certainly didn't ask to become pregnant! You all call it a gift—I call it a curse; and worse, even though you call it differently, you still deny me my answers!" She growled, shoving at Germania's chest. "Give me that at least! Give me answers!" She shouted, all her frustration suddenly bubbling to the surface like a boiling pot of water. Germania seized her hands and forced them behind her back and turned her around.

"I will if you calm down." He growled in her ear. Shaking with anger still, Linza nodded. Slowly, Germania let her go.

"Answers, now." Linza demanded as she whirled around to face him once again. Germania breathed deeply through his nose.

"What do you want to know?" He asked with audible dread.

"Will Rome keep me around after my child is born?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"As long as possible."

"Does…does that mean forever?"

"It means….for as long as you can."

"Don't be vague. Tell me the truth."

"Linza, you do not want to know."

"Yes I do. Now tell me, Germania!"

"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. As I said, there are other ways three ways my kind are born. Two of which…are fatal." Linza stared at Germania, stunned.

"Wha-what?" She croaked. Germania nodded gravely.

"When a nation is born from the land, it is a benign event for the most part. But in the cases where actual childbirth occurs, the price the parents must pay is often…costly. A child born of a nation is often a harbinger of that nation's death. This is only an omen, however. Usually, there are centuries between the birth of a nation's child and heir and a nation's actual death. In the cases of human mothers however…"

"What happens? Please, please, just tell me!" Linza begged. Germania gave her a pitying look.

"The mother always dies as a result of giving birth. " He confessed, and Linza swore her heart stopped for a moment. "You exchange your life force for the child's. In the weeks following the birth, regardless of whether the birth was easy or hard, or if you got sick afterwards, your life will slowly drain from you, making you weaker, frailer, and, in the end, a shell of your former self. Meanwhile, your child will grow exceptionally strong and full of life that was once yours. In the end, you will die."

Linza stared at Germania with utter horror. Her entire body was trembling. One hand came up to touch the swell of her stomach. Parasite. That's all she could think. "Get out," She whispered, her voice soft and deathly. "Get out, get out, get out." She whispered the mantra as her hand twisted in the fabric covering her stomach. She wanted this parasite out of her, she wanted it out. She wanted it out now!

Before she knew it, she was running. She ran and ran and ran. She ran until her lungs hurt, until her knees quaked, until her body finally caught up with her whirling thoughts. Linza didn't know where she had been running to until she arrived. She stood at the highest balcony in the villa, the one belonging to Rome's office, where she had only made one visit once before when Rome had graciously given her a tour. Linza looked out over the city of Rome and then down at her hand which gripped a knife. When and where she had found the knife, she wasn't sure, but she knew what she planned to use it for the moment she laid eyes on it.

She took it in both hands and raised it high above her head.

"Get out, get out." She whispered and she brought her arms down in one quick motion.

Suddenly, two hands gripped her wrists, holding the knife less than a hair away from her stomach. Linza struggled against the hands, but they were too strong.

"Stop." Germania growled in her ear. He squeezed her wrists so hard, she let out a shriek and dropped the knife. Germania grasped both injured wrists in one hand and used his other arm to hoist her legs up. He held her tightly against his chest as he carried her away from the balcony. Under his feet, shattered glass crunched loudly.

"Where are you taking me?" She spat.

"Somewhere you won't hurt yourself or your baby."

"My baby?" Linza asked. She scoffed. "I have no baby. Only a monster in my womb that seeks to kill me."

Germania didn't reply to her, but his grip on her wrists tightened considerably.

* * *

They locked her in her chambers for weeks on end. In that time, only her maids, her siblings, and Petronia came to see her. Rarely did any of them speak to her though. From that fact alone, Linza knew that they knew what she had tried to do.

And she couldn't bring herself to care.

They didn't know. Rome would never let any of them know the truth. The truth that Linza was facing a death sentence, and for what? Nothing. She did nothing to deserve this fate. Linza sat in her room, staring out the windows that Rome had had barred after her attempt at throwing herself out one of them. They had also taken away all sharp objects and fabrics and leathers suitable for the making of a noose in her room. A maid came in every hour to check that she still somehow hadn't found a way to take hers and the thing growing inside her's lives.

Linza wished they would just let her die.

She was going to anyways, she knew now. There was no way out. But if she had to die, she would prefer it be on her own terms. Let someone else bring their precious northern territory into the world. Surely if it was so important, her killing the thing growing inside her wouldn't change anything. A new one would just start growing inside some other girl or better yet, pop out of some cabbage or flower, or however nations were "born from the land" as Germania put it.

Linza stared out the barred windows. The sun was setting on yet another day and she was another day closer to her inevitable death.

There was a knock at her door. She said nothing, and still someone entered.

"Hello," Rome greeted her. Linza pointedly ignored him.

"I came to invite you to join us for dinner tonight." He continued, unperturbed, as always.

"No thank you." Linza said quietly. "Just have my maids bring me my dinner."

"Are you sure? I would have thought you would like to leave this room after…two months?"

"Three." Linza corrected him.

"Oh, that long, huh? Well then you must certainly be going stir crazy! Please come join us, Linza. Your siblings worry for you, as do I." Rome pleaded.

"They can come join me for dinner in here if my siblings miss my company so much." At that, Rome went silent. Then he gave a huff and marched out of her chambers, slamming the door shut behind her.

Moments later, the door opened again.

"You are a coward." Germania's voice spoke. Linza turned and glared at him.

"I am not! How would you feel if you were only fourteen and knew you were going to die for no good reason!?" Linza snapped. Germania stomped over to her and yanked her up out of her seat by the window by her upper arm.

"You are. You are a cowardly girl who wants to run away from her fate—you're running away, and in the process, you're hurting those around you. Do you not know how your friend and sister cry over you? Do you not know how your brother refuses to eat because you make him sick with worry? Do you not know how you're punishing an innocent child—your child—for something that isn't their fault?!" Germania spat. Linza ripped herself away from him.

"How? How do you expect me to face this bravely? Why should I even?" Linza screamed at him, glaring at him even as tears brimming in her eyes.

"Because you were chosen for a reason!" Germania shouted. "You were chosen because you were perfect for this. This is something only you could do—and so now you must prove it."

"Or what, Germania? _Or what?_" Linza roared, her tears falling freely.

"Or you will make everything worthless—everything, Linza, even your own death! Do you really want your death to meaningless?" Germania asked.

Linza rubbed her eyes with her fists, hiccupping with tears.

"No, no, but…but I don't want to die at all!" She cried.

Suddenly, she felt arms around her and a chin on her head. Germania was hugging her.

"We all must die, child." She heard Germania whisper. "Some of us like cowards, some of us like brave warriors. Some of us old, some of us young. Some of us for nothing at all…some of us for something great. Life isn't fair and doesn't offer us the choice of when or what will be our end, but the least we get is a choice of how we meet it. How will you face yours?" Germania asked.

Linza wiped her runny nose, and sniffled loudly. She looked down at her stomach. She was still afraid, she still felt cheated, and she still felt angry…

But Germania was right.

"I'll meet mine bravely. I'll try."

* * *

Hailwic ran up to her with a handful of bright, colorful flowers. "For you!" She cheered. Linza smiled, taking the flowers and smelling them. They smelled amazing. "Thank you, Hailwic." She said thankfully. Hailwic smiled proudly and then took off running into the gardens again to play with Rome's children.

Beside her, Linza heard Petronia sneeze.

"I hate flowers." She grumbled. Smirking beside her, Egino shoved one right under her nose, causing her to sneeze loudly yet again. Petronia glared at Egino as he laughed and sniffed at the flower in his hand himself.

"Well I love them." He said, and Petronia rolled her eyes.

"Congratulations. You're even more of a girl than me." She said. She and Egino scowled at one another for a full minute before Linza broke the silence by giggling.

"What's so funny?" Egino asked. "Yeah, what?" Petronia seconded.

Linza smothered her giggles in her hand.

"Nothing, nothing, just…you two give me plenty of nieces and nephews, okay?" Linza asked. Egino and Petronia balked at her before looking at one another with utter disgust.

"Me and Chubs? Are you really that hormonal, Linza?" Petronia asked, reeling back several feet from Egino, having realized their faces had only been inches apart during their whole exchange. Linza smirked at the blush on her face and Egino's.

"I wouldn't be surprised. Hellas said she'll give birth in only a few weeks." Egino said, sprawling out on his back. From his reclined position, he smirked at his younger sister. "Soon you'll be the one giving me a niece or nephew though, little sister, so don't worry about me giving you any just yet. Hey, how about you name the little guy after your dear older brother?" He asked with a grin.

"Or your bestest friend in the whole wide world?" Petronia interjected.

Linza laughed and nodded. "I'll think about." She paused and her smile turned into a frown briefly, causing Egino and Petronia's to do the same. They watched her as her eyes wandered to her stomach. Linza ran a hand over the curve of it. She looked at her brother and friend and smiled, but her eyes were sad and her smile lacked luster.

"Just return the favor, okay? I want your first born daughter to be named Linza Minor."

It took a moment for Egino and Petronia to start laughing off her words.

"Sure, fine, fine." Egino said. "I mean, I certainly won't be having any kids with this witch, but I'll name a daughter after you, I promise." Linza smiled truly then.

"Thank you." She said, and before they could say anything else to her, she was heading back inside the villa.

In the hall in which her room resided, Linza heard someone quickly approach her from behind and felt them lay a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Are you okay?" Hellas asked her softly, looking at her worriedly. Linza nodded.

"You're crying your eyes out, child." Hellas said, unconvinced clearly. "Tell me what's the matter."

Linza wiped at her tears, but they just kept coming, refusing to stop, as they often did lately.

"I don't want to die." She whispered. Hellas hugged her tightly, like most mothers would their children, but not how Linza's mother would. Her hug just wasn't tight enough.

"I know." Hellas said, stroking Linza's hair. Her fingers were too careful of the knots. Linza buried her face in Hellas' shoulder as a new round of sobbing hit her.

Hellas pulled away and planted a kiss on her forehead, but no beard tickled Linza's skin there.

"It'll be alright, though." Hellas said. Linza looked at Hellas with a trembling bottom lip.

"Can you promise me something?"

"If it is not too great a promise."

"It isn't…I just…Promise me that when I die…you'll return me...my body...to my family."

"Of course."

* * *

Linza's water broke days later while she sat in the gardens with the children, a crown of flowers upon her head and smile playing on her lips. For a moment, she had almost forgotten how sad she had been the last few days, thinking about how close her final days were. But then cruel reality had stabbed her like a knife with a wet reminder between her legs. It happened so fast. One minute she was happy, the next, all her fears had finally come for her to confront. Her chiton became wet. She let out a scream as a pain started in her abdomen. Her maids, who stood nearby, jumped into action.

Before she knew it, she was in her chambers with Aegyptus holding one hand while Petronia held the other. They whispered supportive words in her ears, even as pain wracked her body on and off for hours to come. Maids came and went, a man arrived saying he would help Hellas deliver the baby. Linza could hardly even concentrate on his words, she was just too panicked and was in so much pain. She felt like she was being torn apart from the inside out. She cried out something over and over again, but she didn't know what or who for. All she knew was that she was in awful pain.

She labored into the next day to bring the child into the world.

He arrived with a scream even louder than her own, covered in her blood and something gooey and disgusting, the man proudly proclaiming his gender to all in the room. Hellas and the maids cleaned him and swaddled him and laid him on her chest within his first few minutes of life. Linza looked at him with wide, panicked eyes at first, but the moment his skin touched her, it felt like something changed. Something big. Maybe the earth. Maybe the cosmos. Aegyptus and Petronia released her hands slowly, and slowly Linza reached up to touch the little squalling thing on her chest.

He cried very loudly, his face scrunching up in an ugly fashion, his skin all red, and his fists balled up tightly. Not a thing about his face carried a trace of Linza…but his hair carried a trace of her sister, she saw. She reached up and gently ran a finger over the wisp of auburn hair on her son's head that shone in the sun slipping through the windows much like his young aunt's did when she played in the gardens outside. Linza laughed and ran her finger from his hair down to his nose. He had a nose like Ishild's. Linza giggled more as she gently pinched her newborn's soft, cuhbby cheek. Egino had chubby cheeks as well. Linza took one of the baby's hands and gently unfurled it. He had long little fingers like her and her father. With the help of Petronia, Linza sat up and cradled her son to her chest, giggling madly as she examined him. Suddenly, she adored everything about the little being in her arms who had terrified her not even a day ago. Soon, the baby began to laugh along with his young mother,and his laugh only made Linza love him even more.

Hellas had to virtually pry him from her arms to hand to the wet-nurse. Linza protested at first, but then, like a wave, her exhaustion washed over her. Aegyptus forced her to lay down and pulled the sheets up to her shoulders. "Rest." She whispered, and Linza wordlessly obeyed by closing her eyes. She fell asleep almost instantly.

The next day, Linza was shown her baby again and asked what she would like to name him. She chose the name Felicianus. It meant 'lucky, successful' and was a popular name as of late. The nations had urged her to pick a common, popular name. It wouldn't stick out, they had said, and for nations, not sticking out was imperative. They had been very happy with her choice to name him something that was not only increasingly common, but meant something favorable.

A fresh wave of exhaustion hit Linza before noon and she found herself too tired to stay awake after lunch. She didn't awake until the next day.

That day, when Felicianus was brought to her, Egino, Hailwic, and Petronia came as well. Egino and Petronia battled over turns holding the boy, while Hailwic couldn't get over the fact he had the same hair as her. She asked if he would have the same eyes as well, but Egino told her that baby's eyes didn't settle on a color for months. That was the first time in days that Linza thought of her impending death. She wondered sadly if she'd live long enough to see her son's eye color. Thankfully, the thought flitted by so quickly in her mind that she hardly noticed it had been there at all.

A week passed and with each day, Linza grew weaker. She had tried getting out of bed several days after giving birth to Felicianus, but her legs couldn't hold her weight and she fell to the floor and was unable to get back up. Her body weighed more than an auroch. Or, at least it felt that way to her. The maids had to help her back into bed. It was then that Linza remembered fully the fact that she would be dead soon.

Just as Germania warned, with each day her son grew stronger,but she herself grew weaker and weaker. Weeks after Felicianus' birth, she was forbidden visitors by the physicians who said too much excitement could worsen her condition.

Only her maids came regularly and Hellas or Aegyptus with Felicianus only on occasion.

Linza liked it when they left her alone with Felicianus for a bit. In was in those moments, when she wasn't being treated like the dying person she was, when Hellas and Aegyptus weren't standing over her bed, an eternal reminder of hers and her child's fate, that Linza could just pretend that she was just another mother with her baby.

Linza looked down at her son in her arms, smiling down at his sleeping face.

The door to her chambers opened and she looked up with a frown, expecting a maid to come and tell her it was time to rest some more and take Feliciano away from her and back to Hellas or Aegyptus or Rome.

Instead it was Germania.

He stood at the foot of her bed awkwardly.

"I came to say my goodbyes." He said. Linza looked down a Felicianus' face, her frown deepening.

"Rather early, don't you think? I'm not gasping for air like a fish yet." She said, though her voice sounded frail and weak even to her.

"I am leaving Rome." Linza looked up at him with surprise. "The city." He clarified.

"I have not seen my children in over a year, or my people for that matter. I have to go back. In any case, I will gone by the time….by the time you pass. So I thought it would be…polite to say goodbye properly before leaving."

"Oh," Linza breathed, somewhat surprised to say the least. "Thank you...I suppose."

"Yes, well," Germania cleared his throat. "Goodbye. It has been a pleasure." He said.

"Um, likewise." Linza replied. "And…and thank you…for everything."

"You're, you're welcome." Germania replied, and he was gone as quickly as he came. Linza spent the next few moments wondering what to do next.

* * *

Her condition worsened some days later. To the point that no one but the physician and maids, and those deemed allowed to be Rome, were allowed in her chambers. Not even Felicianus was allowed in her presence in those days.

Everyday, Linza felt weaker and weaker. Even the task of breathing became laborious for her lungs.

The day Rome allowed Egino, Hailwic, and Petronia into her chambers, she knew her last day was just around the corner. They were escorted into her chambers by the maids and sat around her bed, trying to hold back their tears. Egino said something about their mother and father that Linza didn't catch. His voice sounded so faraway. Petronia said some things as well, and laughed breathlessly and forced smiles. Linza could only blink at her, wishing she could hear her clever words. Hailwic was the first to start openly crying and Linza didn't need to hear to know her sister was begging for her to stay alive. She wished she could hold her little sister, stroke her auburn hair, and say it would all be alright. She couldn't though; thankfully, Egino could, and Egino did. If she could have smiled at her brother then, she would have.

They hugged her limp body one at a time before leaving. Linza watched them go, wishing she could say something meaningful to them. But even if she could, she didn't think she could conjure up the right words.

Bitterness festered in the pit of her stomach. She shouldn't have to think up any special last words, she thought. She shouldn't be dying so young in the first place. She thought of her son and how he would most likely grow up on fabricated stories of her. She hoped they were beautiful lies. She didn't want Felicianus to know that even in her last days, she resented the fact she would have to die for him because some unknown source deemed her worthy of a so-called honor she didn't want.

That night, Linza fought her hardest to say awake. She managed to do so for many hours. From the time the moon rose and the stars appeared, to when the morning light first began to appear. But as that first bit of sun started peeking over the walls that surrounded the villa, Linza's eyes fell shut one final time and she simply couldn't summon the will to open them again. Everything went dark and she felt herself slip away in unconsciousness.

She knew she would never awake again.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story. Sorry for the uneven chapters, I may go back and edit the first two into one. Make this a two parter and instead of a three parter.**

**Some things I want to clarify, however.**

**I, myself, think of this as a very sad story because, well, to be honest, isn't the thought of a young girl losing her life always at least a little sad? Especially when she has literally done nothing to deserve to die. She just is going to and has only two choices: to face her fate bravely or to face it bitterly and kicking and screaming about how unfair life is. Personally, I'm pro-choice, though I could see some people getting some pro-life vibes from this. But the end, I'd would rather people view Linza accepting her fate bravely, if with tinges of lingering bitterness, and for going through with the birth of her child not as heroic, but tragic, because that was the only choice she was given really in the matter. She was being forced to do it when she didn't want to, which is really messed up at least from my POV. **

**Also, the whole love at first touch thing that went down which caused Linza to love Feliciano is actually a real life thing that happens with a lot of mothers, not just Hollywood BS. It's a chemical thing. Your body is hardwired to react to the chemicals your biological child gives off, so even if you don't want it, the baby and your own body will basically drug you into loving it. This chemical reaction is activated by the touching of skin. A lot of mothers planning to give up their babies actually change their minds sometimes because nurses make the mistake of letting the baby touch the mother's skin after being born. It's just that powerful of a reaction. ****So is the seeing characteristics that may not in fact be there in your baby thing. Mothers, and fathers, are hardwired to look for characteristics of the "father" (the dude the mother is currently with; it doesn't have to be the biological father at all, which is in fact why this evolutionary fail safe exists) in the baby. Because subconsciously, our instincts are too keep the human race going, even if the man the mother is with isn't the father and the woman knows this, both the mother and the dude she is with will "see" characteristics of the dude in the baby which may not be there at all. This keeps the "father", real or not, devoted to the infant. In the case of this story, however, the hardwiring worked in reverse to make Linza see herself and her family in her baby rather than characteristics of a "father" in order to promote devotion in **_**her.**_

**So sadly, Linza's love wasn't anything divine or even really real, it was biology. I'm sorry if that breaks a few hearts. **

**Anyways, Prussia's mother is next.**

**Please review, follow, and check out my other stories. And suggest other nation's mothers you'd like to see if you want.**

**I hope you enjoyed this. See ya in a few weeks!**


	4. Migla of Ancient Baltia Part 1

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 4: Migla of Ancient Baltia. Part 1

* * *

Germania found her sitting on the sea shore, just as the villagers had told him he would. Baltia was crouching down in the water, running her hand over its surface, creating ripples. At her hip, she held a basket. No doubt, she was searching for amber. Germania approached her quietly and stepped into the water to stand before her. It came up to his knees almost and past Baltia's, coming up thighs. The water was rather cold, though Germania didn't really care, and nor did Baltia by the looks of her contented expression. Baltia looked up from where she had been intently looking down at the water at the sound of sloshing water. She smiled at him that sweet smile of hers that Germania had known well since childhood.

"Germania, how good to see you," She said, pushing a stray lock of brown hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. She then tried to adjust her headpiece one-handedly, but only managed to cause the fabric to become more crooked on her head. "What brings you to my home today?" She asked as she tried even harder to fix the pesky cloth. Her smile never faltered, though irritation flashed in her blue-green eyes.

"It is good to nice you as well, Baltia." Germania returned her greeting with a curt bow of his head. "I came to talk to you about Rome. Lately you've been trading with him, yes?" Baltia nodded her head and gave him a confused look. "Yes, but why does that matter?" She asked. Germania crossed his arms across his chest and his stoic face grimaced. "He is not someone I trust. I have heard rumors about what he has done to other of our kind. You should be cautious of him." Germania said. Baltia's smile widened into a grin and she brought her wet hand to her lips and started giggling into her palm with mirth filled eyes. Germania gave her a perplexed look.

"What is so funny?" He asked. Baltia grinned at him.

"You're _worried_ about me." She said teasingly and then she giggled some more. Germania felt his cheeks begin to redden, much to his agitation.

"What's so funny about that?" He demanded in a low voice that barely contained his embarrassment and anger. Baltia ceased her giggling but grinned at him still. She reached up and patted his armored chest lightly.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just why couldn't you just come out and say it? You will never change, I swear." She said laughingly, and before Germania could protest otherwise, she turned and started walking back onto the beach.

"Come, Alwin!" She called when he didn't follow immediately. "I'll make you something to eat before you go!"

With a sigh, Germania marched onto shore and followed after his friend towards the village.

* * *

Germania was surprised to step into Baltia's home and not find her children there, or even a trace of one of them. He turned and looked at Baltia confusedly upon finishing his brief investigation of the hut. he returned the confused look briefly as she sat her basket down on a wooden table in a corner of the dwelling by the door. Then realization seemed to strike her.

"I've been staying here on my own. My sons are all living in a village farther north, more inland." She said. "That reminds me; how is your lot?" She asked as she added more wood to the fire burning in the center of the small stone hut. She pulled up a stood and sat down and propped up her wet legs and feet near the flames. Germania did the same.

"Scattered about my land, you know that. My eldest children are all living separately, but my youngest I have divided up. Two in one village, three in another. They're never alone unless they want to be, it that's what you're worried about." Germania said. Baltia smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, sorry." She apologized. "It's just I see so little of you these days, Alwin . You are always so busy. I would never know if something had changed since the last time we saw one another." Baltia continued with a note of sadness. Germania looked away and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Baltia's blue-green eyes narrowed at his fidgeting.

"Has something changed?" She asked. Germania crossed his arms and shifted again on the stool. He was scowling at the floor of her hut as if it had done something irritating. Baltia sighed and rested her head in her hands, her elbows balanced on her knees.

"Is it about the Roman Empire?" She ventured. Germania grumbled something.

"Hm?" Baltia hummed, smirking slightly at Germania's rare moment of pettiness.

Baltia had known Germania since they were both just little children. Even by their kind's standards, they had been very young. They had first met shortly after the land gave her life and not long before Germania's mother passed away, leaving him and his younger brother in her stead. That had been hundreds and hundreds of years ago, and just recently they had dawned on a new millennium. Baltia had known Germania for a long time, but even in those countless years, the number of times she had seen him act so silly only amounted to a handful.

"Yes." Germania finally grumbled. Baltia laughed into her hand.

"Why so touchy?" She asked. "You act as if you're a little boy afraid of admitting to affection of a girl." She said. Suddenly her cheeks went bright red and she grinned broadly at him.

"Do you like that Rome after all!?" She demanded excitedly. Germania glared at her.

"No! Get those vile thoughts out of your head, Migla!" He shouted. Baltia frowned but nodded her head, albeit disappointedly.

"Then why all the fuss?" She asked glumly. Germania huffed.

"I…I've become his bodyguard, okay?" He said through grit teeth. Baltia looked at him with surprise.

"What? Really? But you hate Rome—ever since he called you a barbarian when we were little, remember?" Baltia said, flabbergasted Germania sighed deeply, as if defeated, and stood up. "I know, I know…just…I figured trying to live alongside him would be better than…the alternatives." He said. Germania looked her straight in the eye. "And I'll give the same advice to you. Try and hold Rome at bay, don't just let him take over, but avoid war if you can." He said earnestly. "I don't want to see anything bad happen to you, Migla."

Baltia smiled softly at him and nodded. "I'll heed your words, Alwin." She promised. Germania let out a relieved sigh as his scowl relaxed back into his usual stoic mask.

"Then I will take my leave now." He said. Baltia quickly seized his wrist before he could even completely turn away from her.

"Oh no, you don't. I said I would make you something to eat before you go, and I most certainly will. Now sit and warm your feet while I throw something together for the two of us." She said sternly—or as sternly as she could sound with her soft, gentle voice. Germania debated protesting for a moment, but nodded his head and sat back down wordlessly. Baltia smiled and went to work on preparing the food.

* * *

She made a stew for the both of them. It was mostly made of herbs and vegetables from her garden with little meat besides a few chucks here and there, but Germania liked it just fine. He was used to Baltia's cooking, so he never expected anything robust. Her meals were usually on the lighter side, which Germania supposed explained her slight frame. Baltia was on the tall side for a woman, but she was also very lean. When they were little, Germania's mother used to call her the Stick Girl teasingly because back then she had been even skinnier. Now at least, she had some muscle to her and wasn't so breakable looking, but she was still thin.

"You should eat more." Germania said as he wiped his chin clean of broth. Baltia looked at him with wide eyes and then down at herself. She pouted at him.

"Oh Germania, don't start!" She whined, putting her hands on her narrow hips. "I eat plenty, so there's no need for you to breathe down my neck about my eating habits. _Honestly_, Germania." She huffed.

Germania felt his cheeks burn. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure you eat a lot." He muttered. Baltia narrowed her eyes at him.

"So you're calling me fat then?" She said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Then what's the big idea telling me to eat more; do you have a thing for large women, is that it?" She questioned, an edge in her voice.

Germania avoided her gaze, his cheeks feeling as if someone were holding hot irons to them. "No, no! I do not and I did not mean it that way at all!" He growled. He hated it when she did this to him, when she made him feel so embarrassed just for the Hell of it.

Suddenly, Baltia was laughing. Germania felt her hand on the top of his head, patting it as if he were a dog. She used to do the same thing when they were children and she had been the taller one. She hadn't just done it to him either: she did it to anyone she found amusing or to anyone smaller than her she wished to praise or show affection to. It was an odd gesture, Germania had always thought, but he just chalked it up as one of her many eccentric behaviors.

"I know, Alwin, I know. You are just so easy to tease sometimes I can't help it!" She laughed, and then Germania found her arms around his neck and her chin resting on his shoulder as she hugged him tight while kneeling between his legs. Germania's grip on the bowl now trapped between his body and Baltia's grew incredibly tight. "Thank you for worrying about me." Baltia said softly in his ear. "I appreciate it so very much."

Germania couldn't muster a response. He felt feverish all of a sudden. He struggled to control his breathing, lest Baltia hear and tease him more for it. Why did she have to get so close, he wondered agitatedly as he waited for her to pull away, which seemed to be taking eternity. Her long brown hair, now free completely of her headpiece, was getting in his face, tickling his nose. Germania tried very hard not to notice she smelled like honey. Baltia's ornamental jewelry of bronze bracelets and rings adorned with amber were cold against the bare skin of his neck, contrasting greatly against the burning he felt there from his blush. Worst of all, Germania had no idea what to do with himself. All he could do was sit there, red-faced and frozen, waiting for her to let go.

When she finally did, she pouted at him once more.

"You didn't hug me back." She complained. "How mean of you, Alwin."

Germania looked away embarrassedly. "S-sorry." He muttered under his breath.

Baltia smiled and chuckled at him before standing up and wiping off the front of her skirt. She took his bowl out of Germania's hands and set aside with her own, and then held out a hand to Germania. "Come, let's go for a walk before you leave." She said. Germania took her hand wordlessly, feeling his flush dissipate and allowed her to lead him out of the hut and down a path into the nearby woods surround the village.

* * *

It was dark in the woods, it being so close to sunset. Germania worried that if he didn't leave soon, he would have to either risk journeying home in the night, when wolves were about—or perhaps even worse things—or he would have to stay the night with Baltia. He didn't wish to impose himself in such a way.

"I will have to take my leave as soon as we return to your home." Germania said, breaking the peaceful silence. Baltia looked at him with worried eyes.

"But it's so close to night time. You won't make it back home, or to the nearest village of your people, for hours, if not until the next day." She said. Germania shook his head.

"I do not wish to trouble you with my presence any longer." He said. Baltia rolled her eyes.

"You don't trouble me at all, Alwin ." She said. She reached up and patted his head. "Stay the night. I don't mind in the least. I'll even send you home with some amber." She grinned at him. "I know how much you love amber."

Germania looked away embarrassedly. "Stop teasing, Migla." He grumbled.

Baltia hummed in thought for a moment. "Hm, no." She said simply and sassily, and before Germania could say anything in reply, Baltia skipped a few paces ahead of him, laughing. Germania gave her a look. She twirled around to face him, smirking and eyes twinkling.

Germania knew what she was doing.

"Migla, no." He said, narrowing his eyes at her. "I am not playing this game."

Baltia's smirk became a grin.

"Whatever do you mean, Alwin?" She asked innocently, batting her eyes.

"You know what I mean." Germania said. Baltia giggled and clasped her hands behind her back. She took a single step towards him, and Germania took a step back.

"No, Migla." He said. Baltia took another deliberate step. Germania crossed his arms and grit his teeth.

"No, Migla." He repeated. Baltia giggled as she took yet another step towards. Germania took two steps back.

"I am serious, Migla!" He shouted. Baltia innocently skipped several steps towards him. Germania hurriedly took several steps backwards, nearly tripping along the way. He found himself backed against a tree, Migla standing mere inches away from him, grinning and giggling.

"Migla…" Germania hissed. Baltia lifted a single delicate finger and slowly…gently…poked the tip of his nose with it.

"You're it!" She exclaimed, and then she turned on her heel and sprinted off into the brush, laughing merrily like a little girl. Germania stood there blinking for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh and taking off after her.

"One game, that's it, Migla!" He shouted, his voice echoing through the woods along with Baltia's laugh.

* * *

He watched from under a bush as she stopped at a pond for a drink of water. Baltia knelt next to the pool and cupped some of the cold water in her hands and brought it to her lips, drinking it thirstily. Germania imagined she needed it. For nearly an hour now, she had been on the run from him. The forest was almost complete dark now, as the sun had set behind the hills and only the faintest traces of sunlight lingered in the sky. Germania had lost Baltia not long after he gave chase. Since then, he had been tracking her like he would an animal. He followed her tracks, listened carefully for her footsteps. Finally, he had found a pond where he knew she would eventually come. She would never leave the woods without him, just like he wouldn't leave her; if she got thirsty, which she had, then she would have to come to the pool for a drink instead of going to the well in the village or back to her hut for a sip of wine.

Preparing himself for his attack, Germania got into a crouching position under the bush as she brought a second handful of water to her lips. As the water touched her lips, Germania let a self-satisfied smile play upon his own. As her hands reached down to cup a third handful of water, he burst out of the bush and threw himself at the thin young woman. Baltia whipped around and let out a screech of surprise at the sight of him. She tried to flee but he wrestled her to the ground. They rolled in the leaves, growling and kicking and pulling for a few moments before Germania got a hold of her wrists and pinned them over her head.

Baltia, breathing heavily, her cheeks red, looked up at him in astonishment.

Germania looked down at her with a rare smirk.

"I win." He panted. Baltia grinned broadly up at him.

"That…you have." She said through labored breaths.

Germania loosened his grip on her wrists. "Good. Then we can get back to the village finally and get some—" Germania froze, suddenly finding Baltia's lips on his.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. She reclined back down on the ground, pulling him down with her. It took a moment for Germania to start to move his lips against hers, and it seemed as soon as he did, she chose to pull away.

Her cheeks were as red as his, Germania was sure. Baltia smiled up at him. It wasn't mischievous or teasing, but gentle, kind, and, dare he say, loving.

"Alwin," She whispered, and then she pressed her lips to his again. Germania shyly responded.

* * *

**A/N: **

**I hope you all like my Ancient Baltia OC. Yes, I know the specific tribe is called the Aestii, but I decided to go with the name Baltia in order to differentiate from the other Aestii OCs out there (though I personally wish there were way more Baltia/Aestii OCs out there than there are currently; though the ones that are out there are awesome. Like the one by R-ninja. You should check out their artwork, it's great). Please give me some feedback, because I worry about how others might perceive her.**

**Also, note on the names. I couldn't find any Aestii names, so instead I went with the old Lithuanian word for 'mist' Migla. **

**And Alwin is the Old Germanic version of Alvin, which I had put originally, but I came back and did some editing. **

**Anyways, the next mother I will do is going to be Native America's mother. That's right. Not Native America, but her mother, aka America and Canada's grandma.**


	5. Migla of Ancient Baltia Part 2

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 5: Migla of Ancient Baltia. Part 2

* * *

Germania left Baltia's village the next morning. She sent him off with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the head, teasing words, some amber as she promised, and some food to eat later if he got hungry along the way home. Neither one of them spoke of what happened in the forest, mostly because neither one of them saw a reason to. It wasn't the first time they had had a tumble in the dirt or under some furs, after all. So Germania returned the kiss on the cheek Baltia had given him and promised to visit more often with not much thought given to what had taken place the night before.

* * *

"Ah, lovely Baltia," Rome cooed dreamily from atop his ebony steed. Beside him, atop his own brown mare, Germania scowled deeply at the back of the cart in front of them. "I cannot wait to see her again. It has been almost a year since my last visit. I wonder if she's changed any." Rome looked at Germania, his olive-skinned cheeks flushed. "She's your neighbor, right Germania? What was she like last time you saw her?" Rome asked.

Germania scoffed under his breath as he tried to focus on the road ahead and will himself not to punch the man riding beside him. His grip on the reigns of his horse tightened considerably as a result. "She was the same as ever." Germania replied gruffly. Rome gave a whine.

"Are you sure? Not even a new haircut?" Rome said with an audible pout.

"No, Rome." Germania said through gritted teeth. A moment of silence passed.

"Why would you want her to change anyways? She's fine the way she is." Germania mumbled. He felt Rome look at him with bewilderment.

"Well, she's so odd. She sticks out even among the barbarians, with her strange gods and customs, and those peculiar habits of hers." Rome said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Germania redirected his scowl from the road onto Rome.

"Just because she's strange to you doesn't mean she should change." He said.

Rome stared at Germania for a long moment before a huge grin split his features.

"Do you _love_her?" Rome asked, giggling like a maiden. Germania blanched, nearly falling off his horse at the inquiry.

"No!" The blond nation protested fiercely. He quickly pulled himself together and glared at the Roman, though he unfortunately still felt his cheeks burning. Rome laughed openly at him.

"You do! You love her!" Rome laughed. He looked about ready to fall off his horse himself. "Oh, Germania, my friend," Rome wheezed. "You really know how to surprise me!"

Germania growled lowly at Rome. "Shut up."

Rome's thunderous laughter dissolved into chuckles. He wiped away a tear of mirth. Briefly, Germania considered replacing that tear with one of pain. Rome smiled at Germania smugly. "Germania, while it's a relief to see you actually display an emotion besides grumpiness, I think we both know which one of us is more appealing to women. I mean, really, you are most likely nothing but a brother to Baltia, while I am a fine male specimen and a profitable alliance." Rome said matter-of-factly. Germania bit his tongue. He wanted so very badly to tell Rome that Baltia did not see him as a brother, that what they did together last time he visited her was not something one did with a sibling, real or not, but Germania was not like Rome…he did not brag about his exploits…so Germania bit his tongue and continued the rest of the ride to Baltia's village in silence, ignoring Rome's poetic waxing about how he was going to woo Baltia as best he could.

They arrived in the village at midday. All the villagers crowded in its center to greet the caravan of merchants that Rome and Germania had accompanied north. Almost immediately, the trading of goods began, almost as if in a frenzy. Rome and Germania dismounted their horses and tied them to a wooden post near the village well.

"I sense her nearby, but cannot see her." Rome said, looking around. Germania scanned their surroundings as well and true enough, Baltia was nowhere in sight. She had not come to greet the caravan for some reason.

"She's probably at home or at the beach." Germania said, unperturbed, and he started in the direction of her hut. Rome followed closely after him.

They arrived at her hut a few minutes later. Germania opened the door, calling her name, but inside he found nothing but a hearth full of dying embers. Behind him, he heard Rome enter the hut as well.

"Should we go check the sea shore?" Rome asked.

"Probably. If she's not there, we'll just come back here and wait for her."

Germania and Rome turned around and left the hut, shutting the door behind them. They were only a few steps out the door when Baltia appeared from around the corner of one of her neighbor's homes. She carried a basket in front of her and was humming to herself happily. When she saw them, she smiled widely.

"Germania! Rome!" She called as she trotted up to them. Rome grinned broadly and opened his arms to her. "Baltia!" He called back.

Baltia ran right past Rome to stand before Germania. She set her basket at her feet and then engulfed him in a tight hug around his middle. Shyly, Germania returned the embrace. He couldn't help but feel a bit self-satisfied at Rome's baffled face however.

Baltia kissed Germania on the cheek before pulling away from him. Her sweet smile vanished and was replaced by a glower. Baltia put her hands on her hips and hissed, "You promised to visit more often, you liar. It's been nearly five months."

Germania made an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, Baltia." He said, and then he narrowed his eyes at Rome over her shoulder. "But blame Rome. He's had me accompanying him all over the place to see his concubines and children. I haven't had a day to myself in months." He explained. Rome glared at him as if Germania had just committed the most heinous of betrayals. When Baltia whirled around to face him however, his scowl was quickly covered up by a nervous smile.

"I'm so sorry for keeping your friend away from you, Baltia." Rome said sweetly. "However, it is his job as my bodyguard to accompany me wherever I go, so he shouldn't complain." He added, shooting Germania a quick venomous look before swiftly donning his sweet, kindly expression again. Germania heard Baltia hum in thought before she turned again to stand sideways in-between him and Rome. She let out a sigh, though a small smile still graced her features while she did it.

"I suppose you're right, Rome. No one is at fault really. Circumstances simply got in the way, as they tend to do." She said acceptingly.

Rome laughed and grinned at her words. "That's right. Now that that's settled, perhaps you and I could discuss some…" Rome's grinned slowly faded as his sentenced trailed off. His eyes wandered down to Baltia's stomach. Following his gaze curiously, Germania looked down at Baltia's middle as well.

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"B-Baltia…" He choked.

He hadn't noticed at first because of the dark colors Baltia wore, as well as the many layers of clothing they both more due to the cold weather—even Rome wore layers of warm clothing, even pants, despite thinking they were uncivilized—but looking at Baltia from the side, the curve was unmistakable.

Baltia smiled at him innocently. "What, Alwin?" She asked, folding her hands at the top of the curve. Germania narrowed his green eyes at her.

"You_ know_ what, Migla." He said lowly. "How could you—why did you not tell me!?" He seethed.

Baltia gave a faux-confused tilt of her head. How dare she even _try _and make this into one of her ridiculous games. "What are you talking about, Alwin?" She chirped sweetly.

"Migla, this is not the time for your games!" Germania shouted, unable to retain even a semblance of a calm demeanor a moment longer. He was much too angry, and his frustration only was continuing to grow since Migla's act didn't visibly falter in the slightest. Rome looked between him and Baltia confusedly, but soon his confusion was slowly overcome by realization.

"W-wait…you two…are…were…um, to-together?" He stammered, looking between Germania and Baltia with something akin to distress. Baltia looked at Rome, smiling in a feigned sickeningly sweet, mischievous manner that Germania was sure only she could. The hands folded at the top of her curved belly slowly slid down it affectionately. The small gestures seemed to drive Rome even deeper into shock, as he recoiled at the sight of it. If he wasn't so angry, Germania might have been amused by his friend's antics.

"Well, not quite," Baltia confessed. "But we did lie together some months ago—though not for the first time, mind you—when he last visited me."

Rome grew pale and pointed at Baltia's stomach with a shaky finger. "And…and you're…" Rome couldn't even finish his sentence.

"Bearing his child." Baltia finished for him simply, and it was the final blow to Rome's pysche. Unable to take anymore, Rome lost consciousness at that moment and fell to the ground, pale and twitching. Germania and Baltia stared at him for a long moment before looking at each other. Meeting his slightly softened gaze, Baltia seemed to realize how much her actions had hurt her friend, and her mischievous expression fell into a regretful one.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Germania asked quietly with eyes full of hurt. Baltia smiled apologetically and reached out and took Germania's hand and laid it on her stomach.

"I suppose I took my joke a tad far. Sounded funnier and cuter in my head to be honest." She said, disappointedly. "Surprise." She whispered with a weak smile.

Germania looked down at her stomach and hesitantly splayed out his fingers. If he focused hard enough, he could sense the tiny life within. He swallowed hard.

"Surprise." He repeated, his voice dry and trembling.

* * *

After Rome awoke and some explaining was done, Rome quickly and awkwardly finished his business with Baltia. Quicker than originally intended now that he apparently had no desire whatsoever to woo the female nation, which by his own estimation, would have taken at least the rest of the month. Germania was sure he could have gone his whole life without that information.

The two men had dinner with Baltia that night and slept on her floor with some spare blankets and lumpy spare pillows, for which Baltia apologized. She was using all the good pillows on her own bed. Apparently, sleeping was difficult for her in her current state. Germania remembered the situation had been similar when she was pregnant for the first time. Neither Rome nor Germania complained or really minded. Rome even told a story about how the worst night of sleep he ever had, which had been back when he was a young boy. Wolves, apparently, were horrific bunkmates. Baltia had laughed at his tale of smelly breath and stray claws from her bed, and had followed it up with a story of her own from her girlhood. She told the story of her first night alive, which she spent wandering the forest aimlessly in the dark, alone and frightened, until the sun came up and everything she had been afraid of at night was revealed to be something beautiful and harmless in the daylight.

As they both began dozing off, Baltia and Rome urged Germania to tell a story as well. "I have no stories," He said, never opening his eyes. "None that you haven't heard." He could _hear_ his companions pout. "Oh come on, Alwin." Baltia urged. Sighing, Germania relented, if only so he could get to sleep faster. "My mother and I got snowed into our hut one winter. We were trapped in our home for three whole days. But to me, they all ran together like a long night, because as we huddled by the fire, desperate to keep warm, my mother told me stories like she usually did before putting me to bed." With his eyes closed, Germania could remember it all much more clearly. He remembered the smell of the fire and his mother as she held him close, he could vividly recall his cold ears and running nose, and he could dimly hear her voice in the back of his head, repeating those old legends to his younger self as she had done a hundred times until they finally escaped their half-frozen home after three icy days and two long blistering cold nights. He related this all to Rome and Baltia. "I wish I had a mother growing up." Rome said in response, with a slight yawn and undercurrent of envy. "You must miss her a lot," Baltia commented tiredly. "Yes…I do." Germania replied before falling into a deep slumber.

The next morning, Germania and Rome left with the caravan to move on to another Baltic village to the north and several others to the east before heading back to Rome. Baltia sent them off with some gifts and some food, each with a kiss on the cheek, and a kind, gentle smile.

As they rode away from the village, Rome pouted like a displeased child that had been denied a special treat.

"I can't believe you got to her first." He griped. Germania rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't a race, Rome." He said exasperatedly. Rome glared at him pettily.

"Maybe not, but you could have told me that I was endeavoring to bed your lover. What? Were you waiting for her to shoot me down so you could rub it in my face?" Rome asked.

Germania avoided Rome's eyes, barely containing a small smile. "Maybe."

Rome gave a loud, annoying whine. "You are too cruel, Germania!"

Germania snorted. "More like you're too arrogant for your own good."

Rome gave another loud, aggravating whine.

Germania, amazingly, managed to block it out. All he could think about was that behind him, back in that tiny village, Baltia was carrying his child…His grip on the reigns of his horse grew tight and he gritted his teeth. He wondered what he should do.

* * *

"You came back." Baltia said with surprise. She set down the basket of amber she had just collected by the door and removed her cloak as well. Sitting beside the warm fire, Germania nodded solemnly. "Of course I did." He said.

Baltia approached him with slow steps. "What about Rome?" She asked. She heard Germania swallow. "He gave me leave to do as I wish as soon as the merchants were done with their business in your land. He carried on south along with the caravan. I stayed behind and came here." Germania said. Baltia came to stand right in front of him, but he did not look up at her. His eyes remained focused on the hands clasped together in his lap.

"Why?" She asked softly.

With shaky hands, Germania touched her stomach. "You know why."

Baltia smiled and covered Germania's hands with her own.

"Thank you, Alwin."

* * *

Germania stayed with her in her home from then on and he spent his days helping her with her day to day chores in order to relieve her of as much stress as possible. He'd carry her basket for her when she went looking for amber, or even she was simply doing laundry or collecting herbs from her garden. Germania occasionally went hunting with the men of the village and would bring back a large bird or even a small deer for that evening's supper. Baltia would cook his kills over the hearth and serve them up in whatever fashion she appealed to her at the time. Sometimes she made a stew, other times she simply cooked the meat and served it along with some greens or bread. Though as the weeks wore on, Baltia found herself making ever odder meals.

"Is there…is there honey in the soup?" Germania asked with a grimace. Baltia looked at him as she spooned some more soup into her mouth. She swallowed and explained, "I had a craving."

"Yes, but…honey in soup?" Germania said with a frown. Baltia nodded.

"It's so sweet, though. It tastes…odd." Baltia shrugged.

"If you don't like it, don't eat it." She said, a barely-detectable edge in her tone. Germania looked down at his soup and then at her and then slowly pushed his bowl away from himself and towards her. Baltia looked offended and rolled her eyes.

"Don't be such a baby, Alwin. You like sweets. Love them more than life itself in fact. You make those sweet treats with apples all the time. What do you have against honey then, hm?" Baltia snapped. Germania gave the soup a distrustful look.

"I don't like sweets _that_much. And even if I did, apple pies are one thing. Honey in rabbit stew is another."

Abruptly, Baltia's eyes flooded with rage. She stood up suddenly and put her hands on her hips and glared down at Germania who looked up at her with surprise with great annoyance.

"I said if you don't like it, don't eat it! So stop whining like a little child and suck it up, eat it, or go to bed hungry!" She yelled. Germania gaped at her.

"Baltia, it's just food—"

"Don't just say this is just about the food! You are such a critic, Alwin—always wrinkling your nose or scowling as if nothing can please you! You do it to humans, you do it to animals, you do it to _plants,_and worst of all you do it to _me!_" Baltia's voice broke. Germania watched in horror as tears slowing rolled down her cheeks. Baltia put her face in her hands and started sobbing. Germania stared at her for a long moment, wondering what the Hell he was supposed to do.

Hesitantly, he stood up and walked over to Baltia to wrap his arms around her. Taking the contact as an invitation, Baltia threw her arms around his middle and squeezed him hard. She sobbed into his tunic for several moments and Germania stood there silently as she did, nervously looking around, patiently waiting for Baltia to calm down. Baltia pulled away eventually, her face red and wet with tears that she wiped away with the back of her sleeve. She smiled up at him thinly.

"I'm sorry," She said. "It must be…" Her cheeks turned pinker and she smiled goofily. "Don't think I'm crazy or anything." She whispered with a chuckle. Germania shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Is it because of the child?" Germania inquired with a cough into his hand. He had heard some women could become erratic when pregnant, though not always and degrees varied not just in women, but in pregnancies. Some could be very easy and calm like summer breezes; others could be wild and unpredictable like spring storms. During her last pregnancy, Germania hadn't seen much of Baltia, which hadn't really been a coincidence admittedly. But from what she had told him, it had been an exciting whirlwind for her.

Baltia smiled up at him and reached up to pat his head fondly.

"I don't see what else could cause such a tantrum from me." Her smile became a grin. "He must be a feisty one." Germania raised an eyebrow at her.

"If he is, he gets it from you." Germania said confidently. Baltia laughed and playfully swatted at his chest as she stepped away from him. She started collecting the bowls.

"There is some bread in that box under the counter." She said. "Eat that for tonight, and in tomorrow I will make something with apples for you. Maybe a strudel."

Germania smiled at her words, unconsciously licking his lips. "Thank you, Migla." He said appreciatively. Baltia looked over her shoulder at him, smirking.

"I knew you liked sweets." She said with a grin.

Germania frowned at her. "Baltia…"

Baltia giggled. "Oh lighten up. There's no shame in liking sweet things so much. It doesn't make you childish or anything." She winked at him. "I mean, you like me, right?"

Germania rolled his eyes. "You're rather sour, actually." He said under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

* * *

"Spring will be arriving soon." Baltia said absently as they walked through the woods. Her hands smoothed the fabric over her belly affectionately. She smiled to herself. "He'll be born when the air is warmer and the flowers are blooming again. I'm glad."

Germania nodded his agreement. "You won't have to worry about him catching a chill in the night. Not for long anyways." He said. Baltia gave him a disappointed look.

"Does everything have to be survival with you? Can't you just think of, I don't know, how nice it will be that our son will be born into a world reborn and not a dead one?" She said. Germania looked confused.

"I…I suppose that's nice too." He said softly. Baltia rolled her eyes.

"Always the same with you." She muttered under her breath. Germania scowled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, insulted. Baltia shook her head.

"Nothing…nothing…Just," She gave a breathless laugh. "You'll always be that stick in the mud boy I met so long ago." Germania glared at her, though he felt his face burn.

"I am not that same boy!" He shouted. Baltia threw back her head and laughed.

"Oh, touchy, touchy, Alwin. Did I hit a sore spot?" She asked teasingly, skipping a few paces ahead and then twirling around to face him, hands on her wide hips. Germania cursed himself for noticing her hips when he was supposed to be irritated with her. He focused on her face, which held mischief-filled eyes and a smirk. Germania felt his stomach sink. He knew what was going to happen next…

"No, Migla." Germania said, turning around to walk back to the village. Baltia giggled behind him. "Oh come on, Alwin. One game before it gets dark." She called.

"One game before it got dark is what got that child in your belly."

"Well there's no worry of you putting another one in me if we play again now!" Baltia said in a challenging manner. Germania felt his cheeks grow warmer, if possible. "_No_, Migla." Germania repeated.

"Will you really leave a pregnant woman out in the woods alone?"

"If she's being a pain in my ass: yes!" Germania called in reply. For a moment, Baltia was silent. Then the sounds of crunching snow, snapping twigs reached his ears.

Stubbornly, Germania carried on walking the path back to the village.

He had only taken five steps when he stopped and whirled around and took off running in the direction he sensed Baltia in.

"One game! One game, I swear, Baltia!"

* * *

Germania wrapped his arm around Baltia's waist as he made himself comfortable under the furs of their—hers really—bed. It was not an easy feat, her stomach having grown a great deal to suit the child growing inside in recent months. It occurred to Germania that soon she would be giving birth; he wondered if a second child would finally put some meat on her slim frame that'd last more than a year. He made a mental note to keep that thought to himself…

Baltia draped one arm across his chest, turning around her body so her head was pillowed by his shoulder and her expanded belly sat atop his own stomach. She let out a tired yawn. "The flowers in the garden will be blooming soon…I hope they do before the baby is born. I want some of his first sights and smells to be carpetweed and rues." She whispered tiredly into the dark night air.

"I am sure they will." Germania said quietly, closing his eyes. Slowly, he felt himself drift off to sleep.

"Germania." Baltia's voice spoke suddenly, breaking the silence. His eyes cracked open and felt exceptionally heavy all of a sudden. Had he fallen asleep, he wondered. If he had, it must not have been for more than a few minutes.

"Yes?" Germania mumbled sleepily.

"Do you think our other children will like their new sibling?"

Germania opened his eyes and looked down at Baltia in his arms. In the dark, he could only see her outline, but she was stiff in his arms with anxiety.

"Baltia, do not worry about such things. They will not have any good reason to dislike their brother, and if they still kick up a fuss over it, I will bend my own sons over my knee, and I'll do the same to yours. If you consent, of course."

"You have my permission, but I fear a sore bottom will not quell any resentment from your children and my children towards our child."

Germania sighed. "Maybe so, but there's no reason to worry about thing like that now. We will cross that bridge if and when we come to it, Migla. Until then, get some sleep."

"Fine, I'll try and be less fretful."

"Good. Now good night."

"Good night."

Germania closed his eyes yet again and once again felt sleep's grips on his weary body grow ever stronger by the minute. He felt Baltia relax in his arms as well, and heard her breathing start to even out. Soon, sleep took the both of them.

"Germania!" Baltia's rang out sharply. Germania jerked awake in alarm to find Baltia stiff in his arms. He calmed, seeing no immediate cause for concern.

"What is it?" He asked tiredly.

"A contraction just woke me up. The baby is coming."

* * *

After having alerted the village women to what was going on, Old Lija and her daughter Rugys entered the hut in which Baltia cried out in pain, shooing out Germania in the process. He, nor any other male, was allowed within the hut during the birth, though it seemed like every female in the village was, even the ones Baltia hardly knew at all, Germania noticed with some irritation.

One of Baltia's neighbors offered him a bed for that night, as close to sun up as it already was, but Germania refused and he instead spent the rest of that night sitting outside the front door to Baltia's home, listening to her cry out when pain washed over her and speak to the other women when those bouts of pain had passed. Germania kept his eyes closed during that time, but he did not sleep. What man could in his situation?

When the sun rose and everyone else in the village left their homes with exception of those in Baltia's hut, a boy of no older than ten timidly approached Germania.

"Is your wife having her baby?" He asked quietly.

"She's not really my wife." Germania said. "But yes, she is having our baby."

The boy looked between Germania and the door to the hut warily.

"Don't those screams scare you?" He asked. Germania clenched his teeth.

"In a way." He responded curtly, not wishing to say anymore.

"What way?" The boy asked curiously.

"An adult way. Now go home." Germania said quickly. The boy huffed and ran off. A minute later, a man approached Germania, laughing nervously. Germania knew him as Matas, the man who owned the most livestock in the village.

"I am sorry for my son's behavior, Alwin." Matas said. "He's too curious for his own good." From within the house, Baltia gave a loud cry. Matas winced.

"You are a braver man than I. When my wife gave birth to Vilhelmas, I spent the whole day by the sea shore, trying not to feel too guilty." Matas said.

"I have always been there for Migla." Germania said simply. Matas stared at him. "She has always been there for me as well. I won't leave her now." He said.

Matas smiled at him.

"You are a either a brave man, Alwin, or the most romantic one I've ever met."

Germania wasn't quite sure if he was being insulted or not…

* * *

It was long late afternoon when a newborn's cry pierced the air and the door to the hut finally opened and all the women exited. When they did, looking at their faces, Germania knew something was wrong. Old Lija looked at him sadly, shaking her head. Rugys avoided his eyes completely. The other women whispered conspiratorially. Germania quickly stood up and entered the house.

On her bed laid Baltia, looking absolutely exhausted and holding a small bundle in her arms…and she was crying. Germania looked on, stunned, as Baltia cried her eyes out as she looked down at the bundle in her arms. They were not tears of joy, Germania knew for certain, but why she cried, he did not know. Germania was greatly confused as well concerned. The baby had a strong set of lungs by the sound of his cries, what could be wrong with him then?

Germania's imagination ran away with him with all the different, horrendous possibilities. Deformations like extra-limbs and eyes, blue skin, or warty flesh. Wings, tails, jagged teeth like some wild animal. Or perhaps all of them rolled into one grotesque being. Germania braced himself for it all as he slowly approached Baltia.

When he stood next to the bed, Baltia looked up at him with red eyes and a runny nose.

"Something's wrong," She said, her voice shaking. She pulled the bundle away from her breast and held it out towards him. Germania's eyes went wide. "A curse, or an illness, I don't know." Baltia croaked. "All I know is that something's wrong. Something is terribly wrong, Alwin."

Germania didn't reply to her words. All he could do was stare at the infant in her arms. The tiny, sickly pale, silver-haired infant that wailed and wailed.

* * *

**A/N: That's it. These things are each going to be three-parters from now on unless I say otherwise.**

***The apple pie/strudel thing may seem a bit random, but it does actually have some historical context. Apparently one of the various ways the Germanic tribes got into the Roman cities they were going to raid was coming right in under the guise of selling delicious pastries, one of which was kind of like modern-day apple pie. **

**Plus, all the modern-Germanics seem pretty good slash into baking and I don't think that's a coincidence…**

***Found some Old Lithuania guy names, and Old Latvian/Lithuania girl names. The women whose names are mentioned in the last part actually have the names I originally considered to be Baltia's name, but Migla won out as you know. **

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review!**


	6. Migla of Ancient Baltia Part 3

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 6: Migla of Ancient Baltia. Part 3

* * *

"Mother's nearby," A little boy with shoulder-length tresses of brown said softly, looking out of a window of the small stone hut to look down the road in the distance. He felt his mother's presence in that direction. It made him smile. "Do you feel her?" He asked, turning to a blond little boy who was stoking the fire. It was a task literally too big for him. The blond little boy struggled to put the fresh log in the fire with his short, chubby arms. The blond boy looked up and nodded. "Yes, but she's with someone else. Do you think it's the Roman Empire? Or maybe Scandia?" The blond boy smiled brightly. "I hope it's Scandia. He brings some of his sons and nephews around to play sometimes." The brown haired boy chuckled. "You sure do like Scandia. Why don't you go and live with him and his sons then?" He asked jokingly, but then he watched the blond develop a wistful expression. "If only…" He mumbled. The brown haired boy gave the blond a reprimanding look. "I was only joking. Don't get any ideas, Eduard. Mother has been good to you, ya know, so you should stay here with me and her and Raivis." The blond pouted, but nodded. "Fine, Toris, I will for now, but when I grow up, I want to be a Nordic." Toris nodded and smiled at Eduard. "Okay, but that's still a long time away." Toris said before looking back out the window before Eduard could respond. A wide grin blossomed on his face.

"Mother's home!" He exclaimed. Toris scrambled away from the window and out the door, Eduard and Raivis both following after him as quickly as possible. The three boys took off down the beach towards two figures who has emerged from around the bend in the road. One, Toris sensed clearly enough, was his mother. The other, he could feel now that he was getting closer, was Germania, his mother's friend. Toris sped towards his mother as fast as his feet could carry him. In the distance, his mother looked up from her feet. A wide, happy smile split her features. She handed something to Germania, which the blond nation held tentatively, and she got to her knees and opened her arms to them.

Toris was the first one to barrel into Baltia thanks to his head start. Then Eduard, and finally, Raivis toddled into them as well. Their mother showered each one of their faces with kisses as they each wrapped a pair on skinny arms around her torso as tightly as they could. They had not seen her in over a year, and they had missed her dearly. Toris was sure she felt the same, for her blue-green eyes were full of tears.

"My boys, my boys, my sweet, sweet boys," She cooed, taking a long, loving look at each one of their faces. It wasn't as if any of them had aged since she left—none of them had aged past five or six years old in appearance in several years—but Toris imagined any mother would do the same after not having seen her sons in so long, though only Toris was her actual son. Eduard's mother had left him in the north, where he belonged. She was a tribe of nomads, so when her people left, she couldn't take Eduard with her. She had to leave him behind with Baltia. Raivis had come from the land itself. He had no mother or father but the land on which they all walked, whom was the one ancestor that all nations shared.

Toris' mother said that she had come from the land as well, and because of that, in a way, Raivis was still her kin, and so was Eduard. Baltia had once gone as far to say all nations were kin, in some way or another, since either they themselves or their ancestors all came from the land. Toris didn't quite understand it himself. It was odd to think of nations in the same way humans did with their families. Who gave birth to whom, who fathered or married or bedded who, or whose blood you shared. Because then everything got very confusing. Like, if his mother and Raivis both came from the land, wouldn't that make them brother and sister, and Raivis his uncle? If Germania's mother came from the land as well, would that make Baltia his aunt? If Toris was really related to every other nation, and every nation was related to each other in turn, wouldn't all their unions with each other and the products of said unions be the abominations often called incest?

Baltia said no, because things were a tad different for them. Their brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers were only whom they chose them to be. Even if they had been born of the same womb or both came from the land, they were only siblings, cousins, and the like if they willed it so. Toris has accepted his mother's words, and so he had decided a long time ago that she was his mother, and Eduard and Raivis were his brothers, and they were his only real family members. Things were much simpler that way.

"I have someone for you to meet." Baltia said when she stood up. Eduard and Toris both looked at Germania and then back at their mother with raised eyebrows. Raivis simply waved cheerfully at Germania, who awkwardly returned the gesture to the small child with a small smile. "We already know Germania, Mother." Eduard said. Baltia shook her head. "I know, but he's….he's not who I mean." Baltia turned to Germania. "Show them." She whispered.

Germania got to one knee and held out the bundle in his arms towards the boys. Curiously, Toris, Eduard, and Raivis approached him. As they got closer, Toris finally noticed something peculiar. A third presence. The presence of a nation. He looked down at the bundle and his green eyes went wide.

"He's pale, like his skin has never seen the sun," He whispered to himself, half-caught between surprise and terror. He wondered if the little thing swaddled in the blanket was a demon. Raivis physically trembled at the sight of it, and Eduard bit his lip and looked back at Mother for guidance. She smiled sadly at them.

"Boys, I'd like you to meet your little brother."

* * *

The babe's name was Gisilbert, Mother had explained later, and he was their little brother. She had sired him along with Germania. Toris had asked if that meant Germania was part of their family now, but Mother once again told him that their kind chose freely whom their family was. It was up to Toris and his brothers on whether or not they wanted Germania to be in their family, and up to Germania whether or not he agreed to such a relationship. Toris decided one new family member was enough, so Germania remained only his mother's friend in his eyes.

Toris didn't know how to feel about Gisilbert Mother explained that his strange appearance was because he was sickly. He didn't sound sickly to Toris, the way he wailed at night, but he didn't argue with his Mother's words. Not even when she told them they would be moving to some place else, somewhere safer for Gisilbert, where people would not persecute him for his odd looks. So they left the little village where Toris and his brother had made many friends in the past year and Germania escorted them south, to a tiny village close to where his land and Baltia's land met.

Only a dozen people resided in the village. They lived off of the land, growing small crops and hunting the animals around them. They were a private people. They kept to themselves except when interaction was necessary and they gladly left Baltia and her children to themselves, saying nothing for or against the small family of new arrivals. Their little family came to live in a small stone hut on the outskirts of the village, with a plot of land nearby in a meadow for them to cultivate and a stream on the other side of that meadow for them to fetch water from since the actual well of the village was in the center of the settlement. Baltia said it was a nice, quaint place to live, and Toris couldn't help but agree. It was peaceful and happy, even with Gisilbert's seemingly constant crying.

When they finished settling into their new home, Germania left, saying he had to return to Rome. Toris and Eduard watched their mother kiss the blond nation goodbye and became flustered. Their mother saw their blushes and grinned mischievously down at them. "If you can't even watch two people kiss each other goodbye, I can hardly imagine what you're going to do when you yourselves find special someones." She said teasingly. Toris and Eduard turned even redder, while Raivis curiously, and somewhat absently, asked what a special someone was. Toris and Eduard ran away screaming with their hands pressed to their ears, faces as red as blood, as their mother began to explain. Later, Raivis tried to repeat what their mother had told him to them, but Eduard managed to distract by quickly suggesting they go explore the woods around their new home a bit. Raivis forgot all about 'special someones' than, and for that, Toris was thankful.

* * *

The next year at their new home was uneventful by most standards. Toris, having lived so long despite all appearances, had come to know the difference between a mundane year and an extraordinary one. The only things that was specially memorable about that year was the adjustments he saw in his family due to the arrival of the new baby. Mother certainly had her hands full a lot more and couldn't be as available to the rest of her sons, and he and his brothers found themselves with a slightly heavier load of chores. Toris also found himself getting used to sleeping through his baby brother's crying relatively quickly, to his own surprise. Though there had been a awful fews days where Gisilbert had a terrible cough. Mother had been worried sick over the babe and even sent a messanger-a son of a neighbor really-to get Germania. However, the fit had passed relatively easily, and within a few weeks, Gisilbert began sleeping through the night.

Mother was incredibly protective of Gisilbert, Toris noticed fairly quickly. There had been few moments where Baltia hadn't looked at least a little worried about the babe. It was as if she expected the worst to come about if she took her fretful gaze off him for even a mere second. It made sense though. After all, Gisilbert was sickly. Her protectiveness was perfectly understandable.

Still, Toris didn't even hold his little brother until the babe was almost a year old.

Baltia was at work sewing up Raivis' breeches after having torn with while playing in the woods. It was a hard task with Gisilbert perpetually in her lap or at her hip. For the last year, Toris had rarely seen Gisilbert not in their mother's arms or lying in a basket nearby. He would never admit how envious of the babe he was. He thought it might make him seem childish to Mother, and as the eldest of her children, he refused to show such weakness.

Usually, when doing chores that required both hands, Baltia put Gisilbert in his basket at her feet or right beside her. Gisilbert was having a fit, however. When he had fits, the only way to comfort him was to rock him back and forth for a few minutes, then he hushed up and became as silent as a mouse, contented for the time being. But rocking a baby and sewing up holes in pants were not tasks to be done at the same time. Baltia quickly grew frustrated.

"Gil, please hush," She whispered to the silver-haired babe. He did not heed her words, and continued wailing, his pale face turning redder and redder. Baltia looked around the room anxiously before her eyes landed on Toris, who had been cutting greens for dinner with a pants-less Raivis. "Toris," She called. Toris looked up. "Yes, Mother?" Baltia gestured with her head to the crying Gilbert. "Do Mother a favor and rock your brother." She said. Toris looked at the babe with trepidation before nodding and timidly approaching her. She put aside her thread and needle to hand Toris his little brother and show him how to properly cradle him.

She smiled encouragingly at Toris before returning to her work. Toris nervously rocked Gisilbert, praying the mother goddess to please help him hush his baby brother. He looked down at Gisilbert as he cried. It was actually the first time he had bothered taking a closer look at his new brother. He had always kept his distance before, because he was both afraid of hurting the fragile-looking babe and terrified that he was actually some demon in disguise. Now that he looked closer, he didn't see a frail doll or monstrous demon. He saw a simple baby.

Gisilbert looked like Germania. He would even more so if he had been born with blond hair and green eyes instead of silver hair and purplish-red hues. Toris wondered, however, how much of their mother he had in him.

Suddenly, Gisilbert hushed. He ceased his crying and was reduced to sniffling in Toris' arms. For a moment, Toris found his baby brother rather cute.

But the moment was brief. Hardly a minute passed before Baltia took the infant from Toris' arms, thanking him for being helpful. Toris watched as she balanced the babe on her hip and handed Raivis back his pants. Gisilbert looked at Toris and smiled a wide baby smile with no teeth and lots of slobber. Toris tried to smile back at his brother, but his jealousy stopped it from being a true one, and he felt guilty for that.

He wished he was the one who Mother always doted on.

* * *

Toris watched as the years passed. He watched Gisilbert grow and grow, eventually ceasing to grow at about five years old. He watched as Mother never ceased to dote on him, even as her hair began to turn gray and lines started appear on her once smooth, soft skin. He watched Gisilbert go from a baby that cried a lot, but smiled just as often, to a wild little boy who drove Mother to insanity with his rambunctiousness and smiled like a mad man while he was doing it.

Toris wondered what sin he and his family had committed to be afflicted with such a terrible child for a little brother.

"Gisilbert!" Baltia called, her soft voice taking on an annoyed tone, something very rare. "Gisilbert, you get back here right now!" She shouted from the doorway to their new hut. They had recently moved north to a new village, one even smaller than the last. They had arrived not even a day ago, and Gisilbert was off exploring his new surroundings despite Mother having forbid him ever going off on his own, especially in such unfamiliar places. "Gisilbert, come back here or I will get your father! He's just done the road!" Mother warned sternly. Toris knew it was a bluff, as Germania had left some hours ago and surely wasn't just down the road. He was miles and miles away. Gisilbert, however, might not have known that considering he had been gone since before Germania's departure, having sneaked off when his parents and older siblings' backs were turned.

In the distance, several twigs snapped and leaves crunched. A head of silver emerged from the forest brush and raced towards the hut, red-faced and fearful. "No, no, no, please, don't, Mother, please!" He rambled, throwing himself at their mother and gripping her skirt with white knuckles. "He said if I disobeyed you again he would tan my hide! Please, Mother, please no!" He pleaded. Baltia smiled down at her youngest before hoisting him up and balancing him on her hip. "Of course not, love." She said before pecking him on the cheek. Gisilbert looked incredibly relieved and smiled thankfully at Mother. "Now, let's get you some dinner. You must be starved." Gisilbert threw his arms in the air with glee and grinned broadly. "Yay, dinner!" He cheered as Mother carried him inside the hut.

Toris watched as he collected firewood for said dinner nearby. He clutched the sticks to his chest and suddenly became reluctant to go back inside. He wondered if Mother would be so lenient with him if he were to disobey her. If she would kiss his cheeks and balance him on her hip and then make him some stew.

Toris started putting the sticks he had gathered for the fire back on the ground, but stopped halfway.

No. He wouldn't do something so childish and bratty, he decided. He was the eldest, it was his job to be Mother's helper, not just add to the trouble caused by her youngest. Toris started picking up more sticks for the fire and then headed back towards the hut. He put on a smile, though his stomach turned uneasily with spite.

* * *

Mother left them alone for the first time in centuries after moving them to the south western edge of her land. She had some business to attend to in the south eastern part of her land, she had explained to Toris before leaving. Toris guessed it was something very important and serious, for she could hardly conjure a smile on her face when telling him the news. In order to ease her worries, Toris and Eduard both promised to take very good care of Gisilbert and Raivis while she was gone. That seemed to make her happy.

She left in the early morning, giving them each a kiss and a tight hug before going.

Gisilbert cried and wallowed in self-pity for the first week she was gone. Toris couldn't blame him. The first time he and Eduard had been separated from her, they hadn't done much else themselves. But when Gisilbert was done crying for their mother's return, he did not become much better.

Toris wondered how his mother had so much patience for the likes of Gisilbert. He was a demanding child. He ran wild and often didn't listen to anything Toris or Eduard said, saying they weren't the boss of him; only Mother and his father were the boss of him. Gisilbert was trouble incarnate, it seemed to Toris. He always was managing to tear his clothes and get covered in mud while playing, made a mess of his dinner, and would pout when he didn't get his way. Toris would find himself chasing after Gisilbert at times, whether it was to drag him to his bath or home for dinner or bedtime.

Even worse, Toris was constantly worrying about Gisilbert. He was a skinny boy, much like their mother was skinny woman. His skin burnt easily in the sun, and the boy often complained about his eyes being hurt from the light as well. And the villagers weren't particularly fond of him either since upon his arrival, there was an incident involving a chicken coop that Toris didn't like thinking about.

Toris wondered how Mother was even able to let Gisilbert out of the hut without worrying to her wits' end about him.

Toris found Gisilbert exhausting during the month Mother was gone.

He finally understood where those lines under her eyes came from.

* * *

Mother returned different. Toris noticed it right away.

He smiles were forced and half-hearted. She told them about her trip as if had been a mundane expedition to trade, but Toris couldn't shake the feeling she was lying to them. Eduard agreed with him, as he found out later. But they both still smiled and nodded at her account of her journey and asked the usual questions, like if she met anyone interesting or saw anything amazing. Mother humored them with a few tall tales about giant ogres and winged-serpents.

Toris couldn't help but notice, however, that when Mother embraced each one of them upon their return, she hugged Gisilbert the tightest and the longest.

* * *

Mother suddenly had them move to the north, to the center of her land. She didn't say why. Toris knew that there was no good reason for them to leave their last home. They had been there not a year, and no one had begun to suspect yet that they weren't human. He asked Mother one night why they left. She only said it was dangerous there for Gisilbert. Toris didn't know what that meant, but it made him feel hurt for some reason, and worried, too.

Germania came to see them not long after their move.

It should have been a happy occasion, but when Baltia's eyes met Germania's, her smile wasn't happy, or mischievous, but remorseful. Germania's straight face became a pained and worried. He and Baltia embraced in greeting to one another and Baltia started to sob into Germania's shoulder. Germania looked at Toris and his brothers over Baltia's shoulder. There was pity in his eyes.

* * *

That night, Toris pretended to be asleep, and lied awake in hopes of overhearing Germania and Mother discuss what was going on. He did, and he later wished he didn't.

"There is no stopping them." He heard Mother say to Germania. "Soon, they will come and…they'll try and take our son, Alwin." Mother began to cry.

"Migla," Germania whispered, and his voice was greatly pained. "I…"

"You don't have to say it." Mother said. Toris imagined she smiled sadly then. "I am happy and grateful to have known you as my friend, Alwin, and I do not regret bearing your son."

To Toris' surprise, it was Germania who began crying then.

"Migla," Germania choked.

"Hush," Mother whispered. "If I have to go, let it be protecting one of my children."

Toris fell asleep listening to his mother and Germania's mingled crying.

When he awoke the next day, he couldn't bear to look at Gisilbert.

Germania left the next day, ruffling Gisilbert's hair and kissing Baltia goodbye. His eyes were so sad, and Mother's smile at him was heartbreaking. They both looked so old in that moment even though both their hair was only dusted with gray and the lines on their faces weren't actually very deep. They looked ancient. As if they would crumble to dust if the wind blew too hard. One would think, watching the two old friends say goodbye, that they were saying goodbye for the last time.

And that was what Toris feared.

* * *

As the days wore on into months, news came of conquerors from the south came. They were knights, people said. Teutonic Knights of the Catholic Church.

People spoke of the Knights' armor, swords, and their epic battles. Their creeds and deeds and philosophies. Some with admiration, others with fear in their voices, and many with disgust. Toris came to fear the Knights, and the more stories he heard, and the closer the Knights came to his mother's land, the less he could pretend they were just some tall tale made up by travelers, like his mother's stories of ogres and serpents. He prayed to the mother goddess to please drive the Knights away, but she didn't seem to hear.

Mother smiled less and less as the stories of the Knights grew more frequent. At the same time, she seemed hold onto Gisilbert tighter and tighter. Like when he was a babe, she seemed reluctant to have him ever more than few feet away from her. She often hugged him close at every opportunity and balanced him on her hip often as she did chores. Toris would often avert his eyes from the sight and try and ignore it, concealing his envy as much as possible.

Soon came a time, however, when Mother couldn't lift Gisilbert onto her hip. He grew. They all grew. For the first time in centuries.

It was only a few inches and by a few pounds, but it was a noticeable change that made Gisilbert and Raivis gleeful, and Eduard slightly proud of himself.

Toris seemed to be the only one to notice how Mother suddenly started walking slower and how she complained of aching joints and being unable to lift baskets of amber or food easily anymore. Toris and Eduard often had to help her.

* * *

One day, news came that the Knights were near the village they resided in. It came suddenly and without any foreshadowing. Last they had all heard, the Knights were miles away to the east. But then, suddenly, they were right on their front doorstep, only a couple miles away, just beyond the ridge in a nearby village. They had slaughtered all the villagers there, and were sure to do the same in their village as well. Everyone started packing up and fleeing farther north, including Toris' family.

Mother had them only bring along the essentials: food and blankets and valuables to trade later for more food later on. She put it all in bags and had each of them throw one over their shoulder. They didn't dare take the main road, for fear of meeting the Knights on it. Like many villagers, they instead chose to trek through the woods.

They left before the sun was even halfway up in the sky and walked all day to the North. They made little progress, however, for when night fell and they made camp for the night, they were still close enough to the village to watch the Knights burn it to the ground.

* * *

It was a week later that they reached the next town. They didn't plan to stay long, as Mother said they needed to stay on the move, but the next day, when Mother tried to get up from the bed a kind young couple had leant them for the night, she could not.

"I am…too weak." She said more to herself than them. It was almost as if she was finally accepting a fact. She closed her eyes and went back to sleep, telling her children they would go tomorrow, after she rested.

Dawn broke the next day with the screams of terror of villagers.

Toris jolted awake along with his brother, Mother, and the owners of the hut they stayed in. The man who had kindly let them stay went outside to see what was going on. He came back a minute later with fear in his eyes. He grabbed his young wife and ran back out the door again without a word. Mother didn't need his words to know what was going on; she ordered for her sons to gather their things as she struggled out of the bed to stand. She took Gisilbert's hand and started dragging him out the door practically as fast as she could, Toris, Eduard, and Raivis following after her.

Outside, it was chaos.

Huts were burning, horses mounted by men in shining armor galloped through the town, running over those their rider didn't manage to slice down with their bloody blades. Raivis began trembling and crying, Eduard looked so scared that Toris doubted he had any sense but to grab Raivis' hand and the hem of their Mother's tunic to keep from losing her. Toris felt faint.

Mother led them in-between houses, towards the edge of the small town where the woods were. They needed to get to the woods, where at least they might have a chance of hiding. As they headed there, they were forced to endure many heinous sights.

A man burning alive running out of his house, screaming for water, for mercy, for his family, for death. Death finally came in the form of a sword through the back of his skull.

A couple of Knights looting a hut before torching it like the others.

A woman being attacked. She screamed for help, but everyone who could have stopped what was happening to her simply ran past, trying to save their own necks.

Children crying for their parents' dead bodies.

An old man hobbling in the direction of woods, seeking safety like them, only to be trampled by a horseman.

Toris vomited, but he was so afraid to stop running, that he did it while doing so, and most of it ended up all down the front of his tunic. He couldn't bring himself to care one bit.

By some miracle, they made it into the woods. They tripped over tree roots and were all breathing hard, but Toris couldn't fight the wave of relief that washed over him. He and his family were safe. He felt some ease creep back into his system.

That all went away when he heard a horse galloping and clinking armor behind him.

Toris turned over his shoulder to see a Knight on horseback chasing after them. Toris heard himself scream for his Mother before he instinctively threw himself out of the horse's path. Mother shouted something he didn't hear and veered right with Eduard, Raivis, and Gisilbert in tow.

Toris had rolled himself under bush somehow, so when the Knight passed him, he didn't see him or slow down in the slightest in his pursuit of his mother.

The Knight was followed by several others.

Toris' heart hurt in his chest. He couldn't breathe. He was afraid to move. He trembled under the bush for several agonizing seconds before crawling out from under it and running the direction his Mother had gone followed by the Knights.

He caught up quickly, though parts of Toris wished he hadn't.

Toris had heard his Mother scream not too far away, so he got to his belly and crawled under the bushes in the direction of the scream. He found her not far away. He looked down the slope of a tiny hilly covered in thorn bushes and dead leaves down at the scene. From under the bushes, they could not see Toris, but Toris could see them.

Mother must have tripped, or had been pushed, because she lay on the forest floor, Gisilbert clutched in her arms protectively as she glared up at the mounted Knights. Eduard and Raivis were nowhere to be seen, but Toris could sense them nearby. They must have run.

Toris watched and listened as the Knights jeered and taunted his mother below.

They called her a pagan, and said it as if it were something vulgar. They spoke very casually of all the things they could do to her, and those things made Toris' stomach churn. One even—seemingly as part of some sick joke—half dismounted his horse to do one of those things, but stopped when a man who was seemingly the leader of the lot finally spoke up.

"Enough." The man barked sternly, glaring at the lesser knights around him. "This is no human woman, you fools. We haven't come all this way for her anyways. Now, grab the boy." He said. Toris watched as Mother started cursing the Knights and scrambled away with a crying, shaking Gisilbert held tightly to her chest. Two Knights dismounted and approached her, swords withdrawn and bloodied already.

Mother tried to run away.

One Knight brought his sword down on her.

Toris had to bite his lip so hard it bled in order to hold back his scream. Gisilbert couldn't restrain his. The silver-haired boy wailed and wailed as the Knights wretched him free of Mother's arms. Mother cried and called out weakly. "Gil, Gil, no please, my son!"

A few of the Knights had the nerve to laugh at the sight, but most were solemn as they watched the bleeding Baltia reach out with red hands towards her child as a Knight threw the boy over his shoulder and remounted his horse. Gisilbert kicked and screamed harder than he ever had before and reached out towards Mother desperately.

"Let me go, let me go! Mother! Mother, don't let them take me, please! No, no, no! Mother!" Gisilbert screamed his little throat raw. Toris forced himself to look away as tears spilled over his eyes at the sight of his little brother's struggle. He covered his ears and tried to block out the screams as well, but he still heard it when a Knight struck his brother so hard that the boy quieted completely.

Toris heard the Knights go away slowly. One by one, each horse trotted off, until finally the forest was dead silent. Toris looked back at his Mother finally, but all he saw were bloodied clothes where he body had once been. His heart lodged itself in his throat.

* * *

**A/N: This was hard to write for me. I cried.**

**I hope you all enjoyed Baltia's story. Sorry that you never got her POV, but I wanted to keep her character kind of mysterious, and the story was more suspenseful from Toris' POV.**

***Note, Gisilbert is the Ancient Germanic version of Gilbert, which I figured was more accurate so I edited it this way. **

***There are some historical inaccuracies. The Prussian Crusades were actually much more gradual than portrayed here and took a couple centuries. But I was kind of pressed for time so I condensed the first few years of Prussian Crusades into a span of months. Which I really feel bad about now...**

**Anyways, next up is going to be Native America's Mother—aka the ancient people who came from across the Land Bridge.**

**Please review, and I hope you enjoyed the story!**


	7. Bonus One: Story Time

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

BONUS #1: Story Time

* * *

The first time Felicianus ever wondered about his mother was when his old governess passed away and her replacement curiously asked him one night as she tucked him into bed where she was. It was an innocent question really; lots of Roman noblewomen lived far away from their children for one reason or another. The absence of a mother didn't inherently mean she was dead. But at the moment the question was asked, all Felicianus could do was pout his lips and sadly reply he didn't know where his mother was. The look on his governess' face then had spoken a thousand words and she had apologized before saying goodnight to him.

Before he fell asleep that night however, Felicianus laid awake for a bit, wondering about his mother. No one had ever really talked about her, he realized much to his own surprise. Which was odd, because Antonius and Franciscus got letters from their mothers all the time, and Grandpa Rome told them stories about their mothers and his younger days at the dinner table sometimes, and they even went to go visit their mothers on occasion. And then there was Sophie, who even got to _live_ with her mother. But Felicianus, he had never been told a word about this mother...He wondered why.

The next morning, Felicianus joined his family at the breakfast table out on one of the verandas of the villa. As the servants brought out the serving platters one by one and distributed plates and cutlery, Felicianus anxiously kicked his legs under the table and gripped the seat of his chair nervously. Across from him, Franciscus and Antonius were whispering conspiratorially, as they often did when Grandpa Rome was within earshot, and next to Felicianus sat Theodoricus, who looked tired and irritable. He wasn't a morning person, Felicianus assumed, as he always looked like that in the morning. At the head of the table sat Grandpa Rome, who was humming a tune happily as he patiently awaited his meal.

"Grandpa," Felicianus finally piped up as the servants, with the exception of the cup-bearer, scurried away, leaving them to their meal. Everyone at the table, not just Rome, turned to look at him. "Yes, Feli?" His grandfather inquired. Felicianus fidgeted in his seat a moment under everyone's eyes. "I was wondering about...my mother." He spoke quietly. Glancing up at Rome, he expected some sort of surprise, but instead, he seemed oddly calm. Had he been expecting this? Grandpa Rome smiled down at him and reached out to ruffle his hair affectionately. "So, you've finally gotten curious about her, have you." He said.

Felicianus looked at his grandfather with confusion at first, then Rome looked over at the others boys at the table and said, "Antonius , Franciscus : care you help me tell a story?" The boys nodded eagerly. "Good." Rome said, turning to look at Felicianus again. "Okay, Feli, this is the story of your mother, Linza Clodovica of Mediolanum."

Felicianus listened intently to his grandfather's tale. A tale of a restaurateur's daughter who found herself pregnant with absolutely no outside help, much to her distress. Sensing a new nation was going to be born, Rome gathered his concubines and children and his bodyguard and set out north to Mediolanum, where they found her, and then took her to the capital to give birth to Felicianus. Rome then turned the story to Franciscus and Antonius, asking them to describe their first impression of Linza Clodovica and her family to Felicianus. "She was pretty," Franciscus said right off. "with long blond hair and big blue eyes." Antonius nodded in agreement. "And her family looked nice too. Her little sister was really fun to play with, and she even had hair just like you, Feli!" He added. "Her brother was also really funny, the way he talked with his mouth full a lot. She had a big sister too, but we never got a chance to talk to her."

"What about my grandparents?" Felicianus queried. He hoped they were as wonderful as his mother sounded.

Franciscus and Antonius shrugged. "They seemed nice, but we never talked to them. But your mother looked a lot like your grandmother, only thinner and younger. Your mother and her mother were also both kind of feisty." Antonius said.

"Feisty?" Felicianus repeated. He never imagined his mother would be feisty. Then again, he had never really imagined his mother to begin with, so…

"Oh yes, she had quite the…spirit, I guess you could say. Very defiant, very…stubborn." Rome explained. He grinned down at Felicianus then. "Sometimes you act like her, you know." Felicianus looked at his grandfather with surprise, at which the empire chortled and ruffled his auburn locks. "Don't take it as an insult, my little wolf. I simply mean sometimes you seem to get just as upset with how the world is as Linza used to." He said affectionately.

Felicianus only grew confused however. "Why did she get so upset with the world, Grandfather?" He asked curiously.

And he watched his Grandfather's expression sober suddenly, and across the table, Antonius and Franciscus shifted in their seats and looked anywhere but at Feli.

"Well, I'm afraid that's a story for another time, Feli. Perhaps when you're a bit older." Rome said as he began to dig into his breakfast finally. He didn't look at him, Felicianus couldn't help but notice.

"But—" Felicianus began, but across the table, Franciscus shook his head at him. So he allowed his question to die on his lips and he began to eat his meal in dissatisfied silence.

* * *

"I really hate Mother's Day." Italy lamented as he and Germany walked down the street, passing a number of shops with Mother's Day sale advertisements in their windows. Germany looked at him surprise at first before nodding in agreement. "Yes, I have to say I do as well. Not that I don't understand the concept of honoring one's mother—they surely deserve it—but being born from the land makes the concept rather strange and awkward for myself. What am I supposed to do? Bury a Mother's Day card in my garden and hope the Earth likes it?" Germany replied.

"That does sound really weird." Italy said laughingly. "But really cute, too. You should do it, Germany. I bet Terra Mater would like it." Germany looked at him with a mix of trepidation and confusion before he realized what Italy meant. "Oh, you mean Mother Earth. Excuse me, it just took me a moment to remember that that was the Roman name for her. I myself am used to calling her Nerthus. That's what many of my elder siblings called her when I was growing up." He said. "That must have been nice." Italy commented, smiling.

Germany raised an eyebrow. "What must have been nice?" He asked.

"Having someone tell you about your mother." Italy replied glumly, smiling weakly. Germany regarded him worriedly.

"Italy, do you mean to say no one ever talked to you about your mother growing up?"

Italy shook his head. "No, my grandfather talked about her once, but I was too little to be told too much. He told me her name and a little bit about her and her family, but…I was too young to be told much else. It was only when I got older that France and Spain told me the whole story." Germany's eyes softened with sympathy. "She was human, wasn't she." Italy nodded his head somberly.

Stopping in the sidewalk, Italy turned to Germany with a bright smile. "Hey, how 'bout we go get some gelato, Germany? Come on, please! It'd really hit the spot right about now." Germany gaped at Italy, surprised by his sudden change in mood. A moment passed and he scowled down at the Italian with displeasure.

"How can you be in the mood for gelato after what we just talked about!? Besides, we had lunch an hour ago; do you want to get another stomach ache?!" He barked.

Italy flinched at his harsh tone, but was still quick to start pouting. "Oh come on, Germany! Please! I could really use a distraction from all this holiday stuff!" He pleaded.

Germany felt his anger dissipate some, and looking between a nearby window display, full of Mother's Day merchandise, and his pouting friend, he felt his will waver.

"Fine." He sighed in defeat, and Italy gave a cheer.

* * *

**A/N: Please note I have changed this from its previous version.**

**Anyways, this is filler. Mostly made to fill in the gap, but also as kind of supplementary info.**

**Human Names are Latinized for pretty obvious reasons, including Holy Rome's human name. Usually I call him Derrick or Dietrich, but I went with the Ancient Germanic version instead for this chapter. **

**This chapter also is loosely tied in with another story of mine, "The Runaway Reawakens", in which Italy acts a lot like his mother, generally being "upset with how the world is" like her. **

**Please review and follow!**


	8. Pallu of Paleoamerica Part 1

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 8: Pallu of Paleoamerica Part 1

* * *

It was getting warmer, Pallu noted as she picked berries along with the other women of the tribe. So warm, in fact, the new streams were forming from the water that giant masses of ice to the North wept, along with new lakes. She could see one nearby from the ridge she stood on. Through the tall, thick trucked trees, the stream ran strong. But not so strong that it was unsafe for the children to play in while their mothers picked. Pallu smiled as she watched Luki and Putsi attempt to catch tiny fish with their chubby toddler hands. Their elder sister, Ama watched them carefully, even as she braided her friend Nola's hair next to the stream.

Pallu felt envious of the women she picked with suddenly, and not for the first time. Pallu had lived many, many years. Since the days when the idea of the giant ice blocks melting was unthinkable, for it had been so cold and they had been so huge and formidable. But in those many years, Pallu had never had children of her own. She had watched generation after generation of the women of her people have sons and daughters, yet she had none, and not for a lack of trying.

Due to her perpetual state of youth and beauty, many men from many tribes had come to try and tame Pallu's heart. Pallu had found a number of them suitable. However, not one had given her a child. A long time ago, the human men had just given up. Pallu had been upset initially with her apparent barrenness, not understanding what she had done for the spirits to afflict her with such a curse.

But her fellow women had whispered comforting words in her ears and told her that perhaps the spirits had given her unfading youth and beauty and a life as long as the river that cut north to south through their land because they wanted for her to wait for someone very special to father her children, someone who wouldn't be born for a long time. Pallu wondered however when that special someone would be born then.

That thought and her childlessness had plagued Pallu very much lately. It seemed she had been waiting a thousand years for him. Would he ever arrive, she wondered.

Pallu felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked over her shoulder to see Hono smiling at her. Hono was Pallu's oldest friend and the oldest woman in the tribe at sixty summers. Pallu had known her since she was born and had been friends with her mother Migisi before her. Pallu had watched Hono play with the other children of the village once, had witnessed Uzu's courtship of her, had held Hono's own children Hinto and Molo when they were born, and had comforted Hono when Uzu died in a hunting accident years ago. Hono smiled at Pallu comfortingly.

"You're thinking about it again." Hono said in her aged voice. It was no question. Pallu looked away, down at the basket of blue berries in her arms. She felt Hono wrap an arm around her shoulders and give it a comforting rub.

"My friend, for years and years, you have helped guide our people. You have advised our leaders, overseen our struggles and triumphs, and have always looked after each and every one of us as if we were your own children. You are a blessing from the gods. In time, the gods will bless you as well with the child you so desire." Hono said. Pallu discreetly rolled her eyes and smiled wryly to herself. Sometimes it was hard to believe wild, naïve Hono had grown up into just a sagely old woman. If Migisi could see her now…

"How do you know?" Pallu asked, turning around to face Hono. The old woman faltered a moment.

"I…The gods would not just leave you un-thanked for your services." Hono reasoned.

Pallu knew better, however. She had lived many, many years. She had seen hundreds of thousands of her people—good people—go throughout their lives and never receive an ounce of gratitude for their deeds from their own tribesmen, let alone the spirits. Pallu looked to the sky with a frown and sighed. She wondered what she had ever done to deserve such cruelty from the spirits.

"Why do you even want a baby?" Wayna, Hono's granddaughter, suddenly interjected. "I don't see what's so great about being a mother. I would rather be medicine woman or a warrior like my father and brother." Hono gave Wayna a chastising glance over her shoulder, but Wayna was unperturbed, much to Hono's dismay. Pallu smirked at her friend, knowing well that Hono had been just as willful as her granddaughter when she had been her age.

"Babies are like the stakes we use to pitch our tents at night, and the mothers and grandmothers of the tribe are the furs and skins of our tents." Wayna said. "The babies weigh them down and keep them from blowing away in the breeze. But you and I are not staked down. We could fly away anytime we'd like. You or I could see the world, have an adventure, or do whatever we like. No baby or husband to hold us back." Wayna said wistfully, a huge grin on her dark face.

"But you want to fly away, Wayna, and I've had ten lifetimes over's worth of adventures." Pallu said dejectedly. "I have flown free like a bird or a blanket in the wind for long enough. I want to be a mother. _Now._"

"But _why_?" Wayna persisted. "Why, with a life as long as yours and so many other gifts from the spirits, when you could do or have so much, would you vhy for something like motherhood?" Wayna asked.

Pallu bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, suddenly vividly remembering an icy wind that burned her cheeks and a world made of nothing but white and cold.

"Because I never had a mother myself, perhaps." Pallu said, and Hono and Wayna both looked at her with concern.

Pallu remembered her first day of life better than she did what she had eaten for dinner the night before.

She had opened her dark eyes to a frozen waste, barren of all life, and snow floating down from the dark clouds above. Some of the snowflakes whizzed every which way in the wind, while others drifted right to the ground, adding to the layers of snow and ice already there. The wind whistled in her ears and made her cheeks sting. She shivered and covered her ears with her hands. On chubby legs, she climbed to her feet.

She looked all around for a sign of life, but saw none. Slowly, a sense of dread and confusion crept up on her. A whimper slipped past her lips as she grew colder and colder. Tears slipped down her soft cheeks and froze there. She let out a cry and fell on her bottom onto the snow and ice. She hugged the fur around her, the only thing she had to keep herself warm, tightly to her chest. She had no idea where it had come from, but she didn't really care. All she knew was that she was alone and she was cold.

In the distance, snow crunched.

She turned her head slowly to look behind her. She saw nothing but more snow.

There was more crunching. It grew louder and louder, steady as a beating heart. She watched the horizon with baited breath.

Then it appeared.

Dark fur was the first thing she saw appear over the horizon. Slowly, a head followed with a long trunk for a nose and large, white tusks sticking out from its face that made her shiver in fear rather than from the cold. They looked sharp, even from a distance. Soon, the giant wooly beast's huge front feet appeared, slowly lumbering towards her.

Another beast appeared over the horizon, just as big if not bigger than the first.

Then another.

And another.

More and more appeared until it looked as if one huge mass of fur and tusks was heading her way.

She trembled at the sight, not knowing what to do. She shut her eyes tightly and huddled deeper in her pelt. She listened in fright as the giants slowly neared.

There was a cry suddenly. She opened her eyes and looked around. She heard crunching snow far too hurried to be made by the giants, who were still a fair bit away, though they crept closer and closer by the second. She looked around for the source of the crunching snow. Before she could locate it, she felt something wrap around her and her pelt and lift her up from the snow. She found herself pressed into another fur, much like her pelt. It was gray and brown fur. Within the furs, she felt warmth.

Unconsciously, she pressed closer to the furs and the being who wore them.

The thing that held her, she could not see its face, for it pressed her head into its shoulder as it ran. It panted heavily and moved quickly and didn't stop until she could no longer spy the giant furry beasts over the being's shoulder. When she stopped, the being set her on her feet and allowed her her first look at her apparent savior.

It was a woman with long black hair and a dark skin. She had lines around her eyes and mouth. She looked at her with shock and confusion.

"Who are you?" The woman breathed finally. She remained silent, unable to come up with a proper response. She didn't even know who she was, so how was she to answer.

The woman frowned. "Do you know where you came from?" Again, she gave no reply.

The woman looked over her shoulder and then back at her.

"You didn't…" The woman's eyes went wide. "The mother spirit must have…" The woman dropped to her knees before her and cradled her face in between her gloved hands. She looked at the woman with puzzlement.

"Who's the mother spirit?" She asked. The woman smiled then with half frozen tears in her dark eyes.

"The land, child…and your mother as well."

The woman, whose name had been Zara, had gone on to tell Pallu what she had witnessed just moments before rescuing her from the mammoths. She had been standing far, far away, lying in wait of the beasts that passed over the bridge of land along with her fellow tribesmen. They too had witnessed what Pallu would later come to identify as her birth.

It had happened suddenly, without warning. A patch of snow started to glow as bright as the sun. The wind that whipped around the patch of light as if in were the eye of a storm. From the patch of light, a little girl, no more than a few years old in appearance, materialized out of nothing but air and snow. With her, a single wolf pelt. No one had been able to believe their eyes and had watched her for several minutes, wondering if she was just some vision or perhaps real. It was only when the mammoths were close to trampling her to death that old woman Zara stepped in to save her, her years of motherly instinct kicking in.

Pallu would have liked to say Zara had ended up being a mother to her. In reality, Zara had passed within the year Pallu was born. Her old body just couldn't take the harshness of the north anymore, her tribesmen had said. Pallu would have liked to say that the tribe as a whole had been a parent to her. But they had treated her more like a goddess than a child. Even when she eventually left them to live with other tribes who had crossed the land bridge, every tribe she came across treated her more like a spirit than a person.

It was only by the time she grew to look like an adult, which had taken many, many years, that her people started treating her like one of their own rather than a sacred entity.

Pallu had never enjoyed a parents love.

However, that never stopped her from wanting to give it to another.

Pallu, for a long time, had been content to give her motherly love to her people as a whole. She still gave it to them without fail…but that didn't stop her from feeling jealous of the women of the tribes she lived with when one of them bore a new son or daughter, when they played with their toddlers by the fire at the end of the day, or when they snuggled with them in their tents at night.

Pallu wished that once…just once…she was the woman who the tribe congratulated on her pregnancy, who played with her baby by the firelight after dinner, who cuddled with her son or daughter under their furs at night, whispering lullabies in their ear.

Pallu wanted that.

She wanted it so much it hurt.

Hono tucked a strand of raven hair behind Pallu's ear.

"In time, your wish will be granted." She said, smiling sadly. "Just be patient."

Pallu nodded, though she remained unconvinced.

When Hono and Wayna turned away from her and went back to their picking, Pallu looked to the sky once more.

"Where are you?" She wondered aloud. Where was the man who would finally give her a child?

She felt a tap at the side of her head and heard something very light fall to the ground. Pallu looked down to see a berry at her feet. "What the—?"

"Hey, Pallu!" Wayna and her sister Meesha called in unison. Pallu looked up just in time to feel several berries collide with her face and smash, leaving behind sticky juice.

Pallu glared at the two girls who laughed before a catlike grin spread across her face.

"Oh~, you want to play, do you?" Pallu grabbed a handful of berries from her basket and tossed them lightly in her hand, giving the girls a challenging stare. Their laughter died and they grew pale. "Fine." Pallu said. "We'll play."

Both girls let out a screech as Pallu hurled her berries.

* * *

It was several weeks later, as the tribe trekked east towards the great river that cut the land north to south, that Pallu felt something she had never felt before.

She stopped and stared off to the east across miles and miles of forest. She could see the river from the ridge she and the tribe were climbing. Kawaseh gently grabbed her arm and gave her a shake.

Dazed, she looked over at him. He gave her a raised eyebrow.

"You alright, Pallu?"

Hesitantly, Pallu nodded.

"Yes, I just…over…" She trailed off as she once again stared to the east. Kawaseh gave her another jerk. She shook herself then and turned away stubbornly from the east.

"T-Thank you, I…" She shivered. The strange feeling she sensed from the east remained with her still. "I have this odd feeling."

Kawaseh gave the east a wary look. "Perhaps we should steer to the north instead then."

"No!" Pallu protested. She flushed embarrassedly at the look she got from Kawaseh. "I mean, don't mind me!" She laughed nervously. "It's just a feeling! It's nothing!"

Kawaseh continued to give her a weird look, but nodded and continued on with the rest of the tribe without another word. Pallu gave the east one more curious glance over her shoulder before following after him.

* * *

They arrived at the great river's banks a week later. In that week, the strange feeling Pallu felt grew stronger and stronger. The tribe began to whisper about the longing looks she gave the east.

"What's in the east?" Wayna asked her one night as they started the fire for that night's dinner. The tribe had caught many fish that day. Tonight would be a feast.

"I don't know…" Pallu replied in a mumbled voice uncomfortably. She felt her cheeks heat up. She felt like a fool for all that staring she did at the east. Not even she knew what was there that drew her. Sometimes, when she caught herself staring, she'd flush deep red and curse the damned feeling she kept getting from that direction. Even she found it incredibly odd. Having her people notice her peculiar behavior made the whole ordeal even more embarrassing.

"Oh come on, tell me!" Wayna protested.

"I don't know. Honest!" Pallu replied, feeling her face grow even redder.

"You must know!"

"I don't!"

"Then why do you stare? And don't just say you don't know!" Wayna said. Pallu had no answer besides "I don't know", so she instead picked up a fish from a nearby basket and thwacked Wayna with it on the back on the head. Wayna gaped at her for it.

"How about you mind your own business!" Pallu shouted, and then she stomped off further down river, away from the tribe.

* * *

She sat in the dirt by the river until the moon appeared in the sky. Pallu debated going back, but she still felt too embarrassed. The fact she had smacked one of her people with a fish made it even worse. What had she been thinking, she wondered. She covered her face with her hands and let out a high-pitched, embarrassed scream that her hands and sleeves thankfully muffled.

"So humiliating!" She shouted, her cheeks turning red.

Suddenly, the strange feeling became stronger. Pallu looked to the east instinctively, across the river. In the darkness, she saw nothing. She heard nothing either, except for the river flowing. But the stranger feeling grew stronger and stronger by the passing minute.

Pallu felt her heart speed up. Her breathing became labored. Abruptly, she was very afraid and very excited all at once, something she hadn't felt like since her first hunts with her people. She debated running back to camp and standing her ground.

It was getting closer and closer. She could feel it. It was just across the river. In the darkness, she felt something looking at her and she looked right back at it, she was sure. She saw nothing but darkness and the moonlight reflecting off the river waters, but she knew she was looking right at the thing that gave her that strange feeling.

Pallu wished she could see it so badly. She had to, she decided.

That night, Pallu sat by the river, staring into the darkness, at the thing she felt, waiting for morning's first light to reveal its identity. The thing she felt waited as well, seemingly, and did not move once in the night, just like her.

Pallu was on the brink of dozing when the first rays of sun shone over the horizon. As the sky grew lighter and lighter, Pallu forced herself to focus on the shadows that the thing she felt resided in across the river. She waited for it to come to light along with everything else.

First, she saw the silhouette of a person.

Then, she witnessed the sun shine on his dark brown hair and his furs.

Finally, her black eyes locked with his brown ones.

Understanding seemed to pass between them the moment she could see his eyes and he could see hers.

He was like her, Pallu realized. The thought made her cheeks flush red.

* * *

**A/N: Here it is! **

**So the concept of this is based on the Solutrean Theory. **

**Which is basically, while some of the ancestors of the Native Americans certainly came from Siberia across the land bridge, some also came across the Atlantic via the ice from what is now Southern France, Spain, and Portugal. **

**So the dude Pallu just met is basically France, Spain, and Portugal's great uncle or something. **

**The story takes place roughly towards the end of the ice age, when the land bridge started to get covered by the sea again and the glaciers started melting, stranding these ancient Paleo Indians/Paleoamericans in the Americas for the next thousand years to develop separately from their distant relatives in Euroasia, Oceania, and Africa. **

**The great river Pallu refers to is the Mississippi River. **

**Tell me what you think of Pallu, and what you might like to see in the Solutrean nation. I'm open to ideas, for which you would of course get credit. **

**In the mean time, please review, follow, and favorite!**

**Thanks for reading! **


	9. Pallu of Paleoamerica Part 2

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 9: Pallu of Paleoamerica Part 2

* * *

Even as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, his face was hard to make out across the river. Pallu had to squint her eyes a bit to see his face better. He had lighter skin than hers. His hair was dark brown like wet dirt rather than black as night like hers. His eyes were dark, she could see. Pallu couldn't tell however if they were black or brown. He wore thick furs like her and on his back there was a bow and quiver of arrows. Pallu wondered if he was a warrior. The thought made her flush girlishly, and she shook herself in embarrassment.

What was she thinking? She had not even spoken to this stranger yet. This was no time for childish fantasies. Pallu decided that it was time to perhaps try and speak to the stranger, perhaps get him to cross the river, or maybe shout his name.

"Hello!" She shouted across the river as loudly as she could. She waved as well at the stranger.

He did not even flinch. Pallu frowned.

"What tribe do you come from?" She shouted next. Again, the stranger did not react.

Pallu frowned deeply and bit her bottom lip worriedly. Was she not being loud enough? A horrible thought struck her. Did he not understand her language? She knew that many of her people has of late had been speaking differently from each other. She never personally had trouble understand them or learning to speak their new languages, but perhaps the strangers, despite being the same as her, did not share that ability with her.

Pallu fidgeted a moment and looked around for another form in which to communicate. She felt her face heat up embarrassedly, feeling the stranger staring at her across the river as she looked around in growing panic. She was making a lousy first impression, she just knew it!

Pallu debated heading back to the camp. Perhaps she could get some advice from Hono or one of the other tribesmen. But what if the stranger left, thinking she was gone forever, she wondered worriedly. Pallu looked between the direction camp was in and the stranger across the river.

Warily, she took a few steps in the direction of the camp.

No, no, no! She thought suddenly, taking several steps backwards, shaking her head.

What if he left!? That was not a risk she was willing to take!

Pallu looked across the river at the stranger. He was staring straight at her. Pallu felt her cheeks burn and she looked away. "Perhaps I should just try again. Maybe he just didn't here me." Pallu whispered to herself.

She turned back to the stranger and cleared her throat. "HELLO!" She screamed, cupping her hands around her mouth to amplify the sound. The stranger did not respond save for one gesture. He cupped a hand to his ear and leant towards her. His lips moved, but Pallu didn't hear anything but a mummer thanks to the river. Pallu glared at the water for its interference.

Lifting her furs above her knees, Pallu stepped into the water and walked forward. Each step was hesitant and careful. The mud and stone under her feet was slippery and Pallu feared slipping. She stopped when she was waist deep.

Looking up from her feet, Pallu shouted at the stranger, "CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW!?" The stranger's only response was to look at her with a tilt of his head. Pallu sighed and took yet another step forward. The water came to her breasts with that one steps alone. Pallu looked nervously down at the water and then up at the stranger. He took a few steps forward, until his feet were touching the water's edge. Pallu wasn't sure, but she thought he might have been worried about her. Pallu considered heading back the river banks, but her desire for the stranger to hear her had now grown to strong. She couldn't just turn back now. She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted. "CAN YOU HEAR ME _NOW_!?"

The stranger's mouth moved, but Pallu couldn't hear what he said. All she heard was a full mummer in the distance. If she were just a bit closer…Pallu slowly began to move forward once again. Two steps forward, her foot landed on something slippery and slipped right now from under her. Pallu lost her footing on the river bed and the current picked her up like she was nothing but a piece of drift wood. Pallu screamed as the river began to carry her down stream.

Struggling against the current to regain her footing and get back to shore, Pallu only caught a glimpse of the stranger before the current started pulling her under. He was quickly removing his quiver and bow from his back. That was all Pallu saw before she went under the first time.

Under the water's surface, it was a dark, grayish green. She saw little bits of dirt and greenery and driftwood. It was cold as well. She felt the water seep through her furs along with river sludge like mud and algae. Pallu tasted some of it as it came through her nose and pressed past her puckered lips. When she rose to the surface, she coughed and hacked.

She looked around. She wasn't too far down river yet, she realized quickly, but she was farther away from shore. Futilely, she attempted to swim to shore, but she couldn't fight the current. She had never been a strong swimmer. She went under a second time. This time, she kept her eyes shut tight until she felt herself resurface. She coughed and hacked violently.

Suddenly, she felt something wrap around her waist. Panicked, Pallu looked around. She felt a weight on her shoulder and looked to see a mop of wet hair from the corner of her eye. She looked down, and through the water, she could just make out an arm around her waist. She felt her body being pulled to the closest side of the river; the side the stranger had been on.

Before she knew it, her feet were on solid land again, though in truth her bedraggled body was supported by the stranger's arms around her waist and shoulders. He lowered her to lie on the river banks. Pallu looked up at him in a daze and saw him up close for the first time. Even when wet, his dark brown hair was messy and sort of spiky almost, and it was longish and his bangs fell in his face. His eyes were a soft brown color that reminded Pallu of the nuts she collected with the women along with the berries. He has a lazy expression with a small, wry smile.

"Hello," He greeted her quietly. Pallu felt her cheeks go red.

"Hello," She croaked.

* * *

Neither of them knew a safe way to cross the river, so instead, the stranger offered to take her back to his people's camp to warm up by the fire and eat. As they trekked through the forest, towards the camp, Pallu couldn't help but ask him all the questions that had been bugging her since the sun first rose. Mainly, his name…

"My name is Pallu," She started off simply when they first began their short journey from the river bank. "What's yours?" She asked. The stranger smiled that lazy, crooked smile of his that Pallu personally thought looked too much like a smirk. "Chak." He replied quietly and simply. "Oh, well, that's nice." Pallu said. "Is it…is it short for anything?" She asked. "Achak." He answered. "That's nice too." Pallu said. She bit her lip, waiting for him to say something. That was how conversations worked after all.

Several minutes passed in silence, and Pallu's spirits slowly fell. She began twiddling with her fingers and looking down at her feet as she walked. Perhaps Chak didn't want to talk to her, she thought dismally. A breeze swept through the woods, shaking tree branches, blowing leaves, and whistling a tune. Pallu shivered violently as the wind blew seemingly right through her, chilling her to the bone for a brief moment. Chak stopped suddenly in the animal path they had been walking along and turned to her. His lazy expression remained, but his brown eyes were tinted with worry and his lazy, crooked smile had fallen into a frown. He reached out to her and brushed some of her wet hair away from her forehead. He looked her up and down.

"We need to get you into some dry clothes soon." He said quietly. He looked at her, his lazy, crooked smile on his face and said, "Go take your clothes off." Pallu felt her eyes go wide and her face go red. She gaped at Chak like a freshly caught fish. You didn't just demand someone take off their clothes out of nowhere. Chak remained blissfully unfettered by the look on her face. He pointed casually to his poncho of animal furs. It came down past his waist and to his wrists and was more dry their her clothes at least. It must have been made of the pelt of animals with more water resistant fur. "You can wear this until we get to the village, and I can carry you on my back so your feet don't touch the ground." He said. Pallu felt her flush subside. It made sense, though he could have explained his reasoning before telling her to take off her clothes, she thought.

"Okay…I'll go do that." Pallu replied warily. She stripped of her clothes and tossed them at Chak's feet and when she was done, he handed over his poncho. She threw it over her head. It came down to her knees and past her hands. Her damp legs were cold, but she felt better now that she was out of her sobbing wet furs. She looked over at Chak, who leaned against a nearby tree now. His bow and quiver were at his feet along with her furs and he was gazing dreamily up at the forest canopy. He had a faraway look in his lazy eyes.

Pallu cleared her throat. Chak looked at her and smiled softly. "I'll carry the furs. You put my bow and quiver on your back and I'll carry you." Pallu eyed him dubiously. "Will you really be able to carry that much weight?" She asked. Chak smiled. "I'm sure. I've always been told that I'm as sturdy as a mountain. Ever since I was a little climb on." Pallu slipped Chak's bow and quiver onto her back as he crouched down with his back to her. Tentatively, Pallu climbed on and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. With no obvious effort, Chak stood and started walking the path again. Pallu looked at him with awe. He was strong, she thought, and her cheeks burned. A girlish giggle slipped past her lips.

Pallu flushed in embarrassment, hoping Chak hadn't heard. She had just met him, she chastised herself. She didn't even know that much about him besides his name and…well, that was about all she knew. That and he was strong. Pallu looked down at Chak as he whistled a tune as he walked.

"Are you like me?" She blurted out. Chak's eyes flicked from the path up to her. Pallu suppressed her blush and continued. "You…I don't know why, but I think you're like me." She said.

"I feel the same." Chak said with a nod. "I felt you. All the way from the mountains to the east." He said. Pallu looked at him with pleasant surprise.

"Me too!" She exclaimed. But then she blinked at Chak confusedly. "Mountains to the East…?" She whispered. She had never seen any mountains to the East…but then again, she had never really crossed the great river.

Her people never crossed it; they only fished from the great river before moving back out west to take refuge in the hills and cliffs to the south west for the winter. It was warmed farther south. Pallu had once gone so far south, that the land became lush and colorful and hot. She hadn't needed to wear warm furs down there. Not until she got to the farthest southern point of the land. There is got colder again some. After her adventure in the south, Pallu had returned to the north. She had never explored the East, however. The river was too wide to cross safely unless you were willing to risk the swim or had a good boat. However, Pallu had never been a strong swimmer, nor had she wanted to risk falling from a boat into the strong current. Father to the north, though the river became narrower, but the ice still loomed ominously and blocked their way. Pallu had never dared to climb or cross the ice.

Chak nodded his head. "Yes, the mountains. My people and I were climbing through them to get here to fish. Along the way, I got this feeling I had never felt before and I was drawn here. For weeks I would just stare in this direction, feeling it, wanting to get closer. When I saw you, I knew you were the source of that feeling. I knew you were like me." He said. Pallu could hear a smile in his voice. A genuine, happy once; not a lazy, half-smirk. She wished she could see it as well as hear it.

"What do you suppose we are?" Chak questioned. Pallu had to stop and think for a moment.

"My people always thought I was some spirit or…something sent to guide and protect them from the gods." Pallu answered. Chak nodded almost sadly.

"Mine have always said pretty much the same thing." He sighed. "I always hated it."

"Me too." Pallu whispered, and suddenly she felt very close to Chak. "I never wanted to be a spirit, or a guardian, or a gift from the gods. I just... I wanted to sit by the firelight at night with them and trade stories and not sit as a guest of honor by the chief. I didn't want to have offerings set at my feet during rituals. I didn't want to be something people fought over in countless battles like some goddess. I wanted to be them. I wanted to be…be…" Pallu couldn't finish her sentence. She didn't know how to describe what she wanted.

"You wanted to bring them together." Chak said. "You wanted to be that thing that they could all share and be proud of. That force that created kinship even between the bitterest rivals and worst enemies. You wanted to see them all move forward together, as a single family almost. You wanted to be them, as a whole. Just like me."

Pallu didn't know what to say, because Chak was completely right. So she didn't say anything at all, and instead smiled to herself quietly, happy to finally have found someone who understood.

* * *

Chak's people were just taking down camp when they arrived. Pallu was relieved that they hadn't put the fire out yet. Her feet were very cold. All of Chak's people stared at her when he set her on her feet. Pallu thought that there were about as many of them as there were her own people at their camp across the river. They didn't look as different as she expected either. They had different skin and hair, with some varying styles of jewelry and clothes, but they weren't as completely alien as she first imagined. Still, all their stared made her blush.

Pallu exchanged Chak's bow and quiver for her wet furs quickly. Chak then placed a hand on her back and gently guided her forward. The tribe parted as they walked towards one old man and woman sitting by the fire. The man was very old, his hair completely white. His face was like beaten leather. The woman was younger and resembled him some. Pallu surmised she was his daughter. The man looked up from the arrowhead in his hands and gave Pallu a curious look. He then looked at Chak and said something in a language Pallu couldn't understand. Chak answered him in the same language, yet Pallu understood him just fine.

"She's one of my kind, Lushka. She's the one I have been feeling." Chak explained. The old man, Lushka, looked Pallu up and down warily. He said something that sounded vaguely like an insult. Pallu puckered her lips with displeasure. Her suspicions were partially confirmed by the chastising look Lushka gave her father and the apologetic one she gave Pallu. Pallu hugged her wet furs closer to her chest as she felt her cheeks heat up with anger and embarrassment. She had been in Chak's people's camp a minute and already she was off to bad start, she thought grumpily.

"She fell in the river. I couldn't let her walk her in wet furs." Chak said patiently. Lushka grumbled something in reply. "I know she's like me because I know, Lushka. Trust me." Chak chuckled. "Have I ever led you astray?" He asked as if alluding to some old, inside joke. Lushka's stern old face softened as he smiled up at Chak then, his old eyes twinkling. He laughed throatily and whispered something to his daughter. She helped him to his feet. Lushka said something more to Chak, who glanced over at her and then answered, "I trust her, yes." Lushka nodded.

In a voice stronger than Pallu thought the old man capable of, Lushka shouted something to the tribe. Pallu looked around confusedly as the tribe began to look at her in awe rather than confusion. She looked over at Chak for guidance, but he was frowning sadly.

"Lushka just announced that the gods had blessed us with yet another great guardian. Someone to bring us to new friends. A gift from the gods." He said. Pallu sighed sadly.

She smiled some when she felt Chak grasp her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

* * *

They came to the river some hours later, just across from where Pallu's people were camped out and fishing. When her people saw Chak's people, men and women rushed from the water and parents wrangled their children quickly to their sides worriedly. Weapons were drawn and wary scowls were cast across the river.

Seeing this, Lushka, who led Chak's people, gestured for her to step forward and greet her tribesmen. Clad in fresh furs courtesy of Lushka's daughter Izu's quick fingers and skill with a needle and leather thread, Pallu stepped forward tentatively. She shouted across the river, as loudly as she could, "IT'S ME, PALLU!" And like that, everyone seemed to relax some. Though not completely. "THESE PEOPLE ARE FRIENDS!" Pallu continued. "THEY HAVE BOATS TOO! WE'RE GOING TO CROSS!" Nervously, Pallu's people looked between each other and then at the chief. Solemnly, the chief nodded his head, and with that, Pallu's people seemingly accepted the idea.

Pallu looked over at Chak. Chak nodded and said something to Lushka, who nodded his head. The boats were carried forward to the water's edge and boat by boat, Chak's people began to cross. Pallu and Chak were on the second boat across the river, right after Lushka and his eldest son's boat departed from the river's banks.

Pallu's people greeted Chak's warily, but with smiles nonetheless. Pallu's tribe's chief met Lushka with a firm handshake, and both men stepped aside to speak while their people awkwardly became acquainted with one another. It was in the uncomfortable mess of it all that Pallu found Hono and Wayna.

Wayna was in awe of the strangers and looked eager to talk to them, but Hono held the girl's arm tightly as she looked between Pallu and Chak worriedly.

"Where did you…" Hono started at first. She eyed Chak suspiciously. Chak was unperturbed. "Who is he?" Hono asked, her mouth set in that grim line that Pallu was sure only disapproving old people were capable of making with their lips.

"This is Chak, Hono." Pallu said. "He's…" Pallu couldn't help her wide smile or her pink cheeks. "He's like me!" Hono's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. Then she smiled triumphantly and gave Pallu's arm a slap.

"See! I told you the gods would reward you!"

* * *

That night, Pallu's tribe played host to Chak's tribe and supplied a meager feast with the fish they had caught that day before Chak's people had arrived. Pallu and Chak sat as guests of honor next to their respective chiefs. The affair was quiet, all except for the children, who had all quickly befriended each other. The adults, however, were for distrustful one of another still to Pallu's dismay. Only those who had grown past the age of fearing their fellow man bothered to speak to one another at the feast, while those between childhood and old age kept to themselves or only spoke to those from their own tribe.

After the feast, Lushka and Pallu's chief, Hanu, adjourned Hanu's tent. Later that night, as she dozed to sleep between Hono and a little boy who snored very loudly, Pallu swore she heard Lushka stomp out of Hanu's tent angrily and into one of the tents his own tribesmen were staying in.

* * *

"Did…Did Lushka and Hanu argue last night, Chak?" Pallu asked the next morning. She found him sitting by one of his tribe's fires, creating a new hunting knife out of flints. He looked up from his works and gave a sort of half-hearted shrug before going back to his work. "I wouldn't know. I went to bed before you did, so…But even if they did, it was probably over something stupid." Chak gave a dismissive hand wave and gave her one of his lazy, half-smirks. "It's nothing to worry about."

Pallu shifted uneasily, foot to foot, however. She was not comforted. "But what if…" She didn't really want to say it. Chak stood up, his new hunting knife in hand, the handle freshly wrapped. He reached out and ruffled her hair. "I promise, Pallu. Lushka won't do anything to ruin our friendship when it's only just begun." He said.

Pallu felt her cheeks heat up and she pushed away his hand, embarrassed. "I'm not a little girl, Chak." She protested with a pout. Chak laughed and ruffled her hair one last time before she even got a chance to push his hand away. "Of course, you're not." He said. "You're a beautiful young woman." Pallu felt her face heat up even more and she refused to look at him.

"Come," He said, pulling gently at her hand. "Come walk with me for a bit. Most of the men of my tribe are off hunting with the men of yours right now. They left at dawn's first light, before I awoke. I wouldn't be able to catch up with them, so let's just go exploring on our own." Chak said, starting to walk towards the forest. Pallu looked over her shoulder at the women of her tribe who were fishing in the river with some of Chak's people. She should really be helping them, she thought. After all, she had been gone all yesterday.

"I don't think we should. What about our people?"

"The women of my tribe can help, and the men who stayed behind from the hunt as well." Chak said. He gave her a pleading look. "Please? I really want to see your side of the river." He said.

"Lushka and Hanu, though…" Pallu protested weakly. Exploring with Chak really did sound more fun than fishing. Besides, after yesterday, she was pretty sure she never wanted to set foot in the great river again.

"Lushka is content to sit by the fire all day and warm his old bones, and would Hanu really mind?" Chak asked. Pallu shook her head. Hanu probably wouldn't. He had better things to worry about than her going off. After all, he knew of her nature, that any day she could leave their tribe for another one of her people's tribes and not return to theirs for six generations.

"Okay, okay," Pallu conceded. "Let's go." Chak smiled and took her hand. Hurriedly almost, he led her into the forest.

* * *

They walked for several hours through the woods. They picked some berries from some bushes they passed. Chak was curious about them, saying that he had never seen such berries before in his long life. Pallu showed him which were poisonous and which tasted the best and which were good for upset stomachs or making medicines. He particularly like the little red berries she showed him and ate them by the handful until the bush they were ravaging was barren. His right hand was left coated in red and sticky.

They followed the tracks of a wild animal back to its den. There, they saw it and its litter heading out for the day. "They're so cute!" Pallu whispered excitedly upon seeing the furry little critters. "Would you like me to steal you one?" Chak asked jokingly, pointing a particularly small member of the litter who was lagging behind. Pallu gasped and shook her head. "I could never separate a baby from its mother!" She protested. "If I did, how could I expect for the gods to…" She shut her mouth quickly, feeling her cheeks burn red. "For the gods to what?" Chak asked curiously. Pallu shook her head. "Nothing. Just nothing." She said.

She had known Chak less than two days. She thought it perhaps too soon to share her life's dream with him…

Chak shrugged off her lack of response. They moved on after the mother and the litter left the area. They found an animal path that led to a small watering hole nearby. There, Pallu crouched to the ground and greedily began to drink. Meanwhile, Chak looked to the sky, specifically at the sun. Pallu wiped her mouth and said to him, "Midday." Chak looked at her with surprise. "Wha?" He asked. Pallu smiled. "You were looking for the time, right? It's midday." She said. Chak looked between her and the sun. "Yes…Yes, I suppose it is." He said. He gave Pallu his usual lazy, half-smirk.

For the first time, it seemed forced and unconvincing.

"Are there any fish in that watering hole? I'm getting sort of hungry." He said.

Pallu gave him a long, lingering apprehensive look before turning back to the watering hole and examining the water, searching for signs of life.

She heard leaves on the forest floor crunch under Chak's weight behind her as he approached. He moved too fast for it to be casual. Before she could turn around, she felt his new flint blade pressed to the veins in her throat and felt his warm breath in her ear.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, show of hands, who thinks Chak is an asshole? No, but seriously, I really debated whether to end this chapter like this. I think it's a risk, but I hope you like it and look forward to the next chapter. **

**As per the request of Wednesday101, the next arc will focus on Kievan Rus. **

**In other news, Pallu's arc will be the first arc where the story lasts four chapters.**

**I would really, really appreciate some feedback on these Ocs, guys! Please review! I want to know what you guys think of the mothers!**

**Thank you guys for reading!**

**Please review and follow! **

**Edit:**

**To Guest: No, Chak is not Ancient Latin America. I...really don't know where you go that idea, because I explained in the Author's Note in the previous chapter that his character comes from the Solutrean theory. So, no, Chak is not latino. **

**Or wait, were you suggesting a character? I don't know honestly. **

**To Bewbs Ahoy: Kievan Rus is the popular name for Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine's mother based on the fact that culture existed in what is now Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine. Not just Ukraine. As far as I know, Ukraine being Kievan Rus is not Hetalia canon and not historically accurate because that's leaving out Belarus and Russia, who also claim cultural inheritance from Kievan Rus along with Ukraine. If you think Ukraine was Kievan Rus and that's your headcanon, okay, but here I am operating off the popular headcanon that Kievan Rus was Ukraine, Russia, and Belarus' mother. Thank you for your words of advice however. **


	10. Pallu of Paleoamerica Part 3

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 10: Pallu of Paleoamerica Part 3

* * *

Pallu opened her mouth to scream, but Chak clamped his hand over her lips. "Don't," He whispered in her ear. He said no more; the press of his blade further into her neck was all the elaboration Pallu needed. She closed her mouth and nodded. Chak removed his hand from her month and slipped one arm around her waist while still keeping his flint knife pressed to her neck. He forced her to her feet and started walking her back down the path they had previously been following, back towards camp. Pallu grew confused.

"Why are we going back?" She asked bravely. Chak didn't answer her. He was silent for several agonizing minutes.

"I didn't want to do this." He said finally. Pallu almost twisted her head to look at him with disbelief, but she couldn't forget the knife. So instead, she made an indignant sniff.

Pallu was not in disbelief because she felt he spoke true; no, she was in disbelief at the gall Chak must have possessed in order to even make the claim he just had.

"Right, and thorns don't mean to poke and prod." Pallu replied scathingly. Behind her, Chak sighed. His hot breath on her ear made Pallu uncomfortable.

"Has a leader of one of your people's tribes never made you do something for the sake of your people that you didn't want to do?" Chak asked. Pallu stiffened again. However, the scowl she had fixed the path ahead of her with slowly slipped off her face. She bit her lip and remained silent, not answering his question. Chak took the silence as her reply.

"They have, haven't they? So you understand that when I say I didn't want to do this, I'm telling the truth. Lushka doesn't want to share this section of river with your people. Up north, the river is icy and hard to fish from, and farther south, it runs too fast and is too deep. It's dangerous. Here, the river isn't filled with chunks of ice, nor does it run too fast or is too deep. It's perfect really. But Lushka doesn't want to share it with your people. Your leader refused to leave peacefully." Chak explained, and Pallu for some reason was sure he told the truth despite what had just happened back at the watering hole. Nonetheless, she remained angry with her newfound "friend".

"Then why not run us off? Why take me hostage like this?" She asked bitterly.

"We…" Chak hesitated. "We don't have many women in our tribe." Pallu froze completely in the path at the implications of those words. Chak stopped as well and continued to explain. "Lushka decided to lure all your men away and kill as many as possible on the hunt. By now, most of them should be dead, or have been run off. At the moment, the men of my tribe are taking your people's women hostage and have killed your leader and any man of your tribe who didn't go on the hunt." Pallu heard Chak swallow. "I'm sorry, Pallu." He whispered in her ear mournfully.

Pallu refused to say anything to him.

* * *

They arrived back at the camp to a horrific scene. At least, it was horrific in Pallu's eyes.

All the women and children of her people were gathered around one of the fire pits, their arms and legs bound as warriors of Chak's people stood sentry over them. Not a single man of Pallu's people was there. A group of men from Chak's tribe emerged from the brush just a moment after Chak and Pallu's arrival. Pallu grit her teeth angrily at the sight of their bloodied weapons. Animal carcasses weren't the only things Chak's men carried into camp with them. Many of them now adorned garments and ornament necklaces, earrings, and bracelets that they had not donned before leaving on the hunt, Pallu knew.

Chak walked Pallu over to the fire pit in the very center of camp. The one where the women and children of Chak's people gathered with some men of their tribe as well, most likely their husbands and elder sons. Lushka sat by the fire with his daughter. Pallu was pleased to find the young woman looking at her father with displeasure as she cradled a frightened child in her arms. However, Pallu's heart broke even more than it already had in the past few hours when she recognized the child as one of her people. A little boy named Alo whose mother Pallu has watched grow up herself some years ago. Alo was much like his mother was when she was young: shy but clever and always curious. The fact Alo was not in his own mother's arms but Lushka's daughter's couldn't be anything but a bad sign. Looking around at the other fire pits where her people were gathered and seeing—or rather _not _seeing—certain faces only served to confirm Pallu's fears more and more.

Later, Chak would inform her that yes, many women had bravely fought back against their subjugators. Some, unfortunately, did not survive, such as Alo's mother and Hono's granddaughter, Wayna.

Chak guided Pallu towards Lushka and his daughter. As soon as they stood before the withered old man, every eye in camp on them, Pallu felt. She flushed with shame and embarrassment. Her only comfort was Alo, who crawled out of Lushka's daughter's arms and toddled up to her to wrap his tiny arms around her waist. Chak pulled his knife away from her throat then, allowing Pallu to hoist the four year old into her arms. She felt him cry into her shoulder. She mouthed an apology into his soft black hair.

Lushka's smile infuriated Pallu to no end. His daughter and Chak at least had the decency to look somewhat ashamed. As did others around the fire pit. Many avoided Pallu's gaze at she looked around. Especially the men who has gone on the hunt. Good, Pallu thought. They had every reason to be ashamed of themselves. She stuck out her chin defiantly as Lushka cleared his throat and braced herself. The entire camp fell silent except for the crackling of the fires.

"I am sure Chak has already explained our reasons for this sudden invasion, and I apologize, but Hanu was stubborn. A good leader shouldn't be so stubborn." Lushka said. "Not when it isn't in the best interest of his people." Pallu didn't say anything, so Lushka continued. "The men of this tribe are all dead, though I will assure you they all died honorably. It is thus in the best interests of these women and children that we take them in, don't you agree? After all, winter is quickly approaching. These women will need new husbands to hunt for them, these little boys, such as the one you hold, will need fathers to teach them to hunt and fight, and these little girls and young women will need brothers to defend their honor and virtue." Lushka smiled at her like a kindly old man. It seemed so genuine, as if he really believed in the good of what he was suggesting. Pallu was disgusted by it and wrinkled her nose at him.

Pallu glanced over the heads of Chak's people across the way at the other fire pits where her people sat huddled and frightened. They all looked at her with fear and pleading. They wished for her to do something. But what could she do, Pallu wondered. She didn't have Chak's inhuman strength. If she did, she would have done a number of things by now. She didn't have any of the super natural powers that her people sometimes gifted her in the myths they made up surrounding her, like the power to see the future, fly high in the sky like an bird, or control some aspect of nature like storms or plants. She wished she did though more than ever in that moment. Perhaps than she could do something but give a defeated nod of her head with a thousand vengeful thoughts swirling around her mind. Never before had such a tempest of loathing consumed her thoughts.

* * *

They forced her to marry Chak on the night of the full moon, just over a week after her people were conquered.

Lushka's daughter Sapati informed her of the arrangement three days after the slaughter of the tribe's men. Pallu had been confined to the same tent as Sapati and the rest of Lushka's family: his other daughter Kai, who was just twelve, his twin young six year old sons, Tori and Tupi, who his wife had apparently died laboring to bring into the world, and Lushka's sister-in-law, Tawa, the widow of Lushka's brother, the old chief of the tribe before Lushka. Alo joined them in the tent, apparently having been quickly adopted by Sapati. But while the boy seemed already attached to his new mother after just a few days, Pallu didn't fail to notice the savage glares the four year old managed to give just about everyone else of Chak's people.

It was on the third night after the slaughter, after Sapati had put her brothers and Alo to bed, that Sapati crawled over to Pallu's makeshift bed of furs and tentatively whispered the news. Not so much news actually, but a warning. "My father is going to announce to the whole tribe," She began in a voice low enough for Kai and Tawa not to hear from across the tent. "I don't want to see you be shamed by the surprise on your face, so…here is. My father is going to force you and Achak to wed." She said it gently, but it still dealt a mighty blow to Pallu's dignity. She managed to hold herself together long enough to nod her head slowly in understanding to Sapati and roll over to pretend to be asleep. After awhile, when she was sure everyone else in the tent was asleep, she let herself cry finally.

The next day, when Lushka made his announcement to the entire camp, Pallu managed to keep a stoic expression even as the remainder of her people in the camp cried out in displeasure and outrage. The angriest among them was Hono. Pallu's old friend stepped before Lushka with her fists clenched and a teary-eyed glare on her face. Everyone was surprised by the old man's actions.

"You bastard," Hono seethed, stepping towards Lushka threateningly. Lushka regarded Hono warily, but motioned for his guardsmen to stand down and not harm the woman. "You come in our camp and act as if you are our brethren," Hono continued, her aged voice cracking, "but then you kill our fathers, our brothers, and our sons and take us as your prisoners! You took my Hinto and my Molo and their sons as well and even my Wayna! **Do you really expect me to sit back and watch you take my oldest friend as well!?**" Hono demanded furiously, her welling tears finally spilling over and trickling down her weathered face. Lushka regarded her coolly. "How do you expect to stop me?" He questioned simply. The old woman before him fell to her knees and began to sob violently, cursing him and Chak as well with every word that was formed by her old lips. Meesha shouldered through the on-looking crowd with her cousin Moki, one of the few fortunate boys that had been young enough to be spared by Chak's people. Meesha and Moki ran to their grandmother's side and started tugging her away from the scene, back to the tent she shared with her and their mothers and Moki's sisters. Hono did not come out of that tent again that day, not even for dinner. Lushka had ordered a bowl of berries be taken to the stubborn old woman in order to show her he was a forgiving man and no monster like she thought he was.

The next day, Hono was found dead.

* * *

Pallu mourned her friend along with all her other people in the days leading up to her wedding. Hono's family prepared her body for burial themselves, as was tradition, by cleansing it and wrapping it in a shroud with great care. The day before Hono's burial, Pallu sat beside her body, praying softly along with Hono's remaining family members and many others of her people. Hono's burial would not truly be just hers; it would be the funeral for all those of their tribe who they had lost, many of which they could no bury because their bodies were lost somewhere in the nearby forests, already most likely desecrated by scavengers. If Lushka would have allowed it, they still would have all gone looking for them, to give them all proper burials, but sadly, Lushka would not allow it, even under the close watch of his tribe's warriors.

It long after the sun that set when others had returned to their own tents, including Hono's family, when Pallu heard someone enter the tent and join her. She sensed him immediately. She would have gotten up to storm out then if it hadn't been for the fact she didn't want to leave Hono's body alone with anyone of Chak's people, let alone Chak himself. She felt it would be disrespectful to Hono.

"What do you want, Chak?" She asked him coldly, never even so much as opening her eyes. She felt him sit beside her and breathe deeply. She sensed that he was greatly uncomfortable with the circumstances. That fact almost was of comfort to her. _Almost. _

"I…" He started. "I'm sorry." Fifty-eight. That was the fifty-eighth time he has apologized.

"I don't care." And that was fifty-seventh that she had told him just how she felt about his apologies. They were meaningless, after all, unless they had the power to reverse time and make it so Pallu never felt Chak's miserable presence all those weeks ago.

Chak sighed in defeat beside her. She was irked by the sound. Chak was a melancholy individual in the first place even when he was supposedly happy. When actually upset or disappointed, his glum-attitude increased to the point it made everything seem more gloomy and grey. As if the current atmosphere needed anymore grief in it, Pallu thought scornfully.

"Go away," She ordered him firmly. She hoped her would obey. Instead, she felt his hand on one of hers in her lap. Her eyes flew open and she jerked away from him, giving him a fierce glare. "Stay away from me!" Pallu growled. Chak frowned sadly at her and nodded his head. He got up and left the tent without a word, leaving Pallu alone with Hono's body once again.

It only occurred to her later that he was trying to be comforting, and honestly, all it did was make her more resentful of him.

* * *

A week after Hono's burial, Pallu was wed to Chak.

Preparations for the event had already been in progress since the announcement by Lushka. Mostly they had been made by Chak's people however since Pallu's were unwilling to participate. They only made minimal effort in their share of the preparations. Pallu did not blame them.

It was Tawa who made the wedding vase, and even despite her displeasure with the arrangement, Pallu would admit that Tawa was very talented. It was beautiful vase even if it was meant for an unsavory affair. Pallu's wedding attire was handled by Chak. Soon after the announcement, Lushka had forced Chak to sit down at one of the fire pits with some other men and begin sewing an outfit together. Pallu almost found the furrow in his brow and the way he bit his bottom lip as he threaded the needle with the utmost care laughable. His growing frustration was even more entertaining to watch. Pallu wondered how crooked the stitches of her wedding clothes would turn out quite often and surprisingly with little scornfulness. A Wiseman of Chak's people worked on blessing the camp grounds for several days. Pallu's people, meanwhile, set to work on preparing the items Chak and Pallu would need for a life together while also exchanging gifts between them and Chak's people. This was done with especial reluctance, Pallu understood. Meats and breads were given to each other warily and, when backs were turned, were checked twice over for poisoning before they were consumed or discreetly tossed away distrustfully.

The day before the wedding, Pallu was all but forced to make some bread to give to Chak and Lushka's family. She was woken early by Kai who, being so young and naïve of the situation, was very excited about the impending wedding. Pallu was almost thankful for the girl's enthusiasm as she made the bread that morning. The girl's lively talk about her dreams of her own future wedding was a welcome distraction from the thoughts plaguing Pallu's mind.

When Pallu was done with the bread she gathered it all in a basket and allowed Kai to happily take her hand and lead her to Chak's tent where Lushka's family and what was left of the now dead Hanu's family had gathered as well. Pallu entered the tent, the basket of bread in her hands feeling more like a basket full of stones meant to sink her in the river. Oh how she now wished that river had swept her away before Chak could get to her. Perhaps then…Pallu shooed those thoughts away before they could make her any more regretful than she already was.

In the tent, the air was heavy with tension. Lushka and his family sat on one side of the tent while Hanu's widow Bena and his daughters Lulu, Zene, and Fala sat on the other side with backs as straight as arrows and heads held high despite the pain in their eyes. Pallu had heard about how Hanu had been cut down right before his wife and Lulu's eyes that day as they ate lunch happily together by a fire while Zene and Fala played nearby with their little brother Mona. Pallu didn't like to think about what had happened to poor little Mona minutes after his father's death. No child deserved what Mona got, chief's son or not.

Kai sat with her family while Pallu took a seat beside Bena. With a deep breath in and out, she set the basket of fresh bread in between the two groups along with several other items that would soon be exchanged between the two parties. A moment later, Chak entered the tent, freshly arrived back at camp from the day's hunt. He entered with his usual melancholy expression and slipped his bow and quiver of arrows off his back as if they weighed a thousand pounds. He held up his catch for that day, three large birds each with a missing left eye. He should have looked triumphant like any other bridegroom; but then again, Pallu was supposed to be smiling at him with love and admiration and welcome like any other bride. Lushka, Kai, and Tori and Tupi were the only ones to offer genuine praise to Chak for his success. Everyone else in the tent feigned such feelings except for Alo, who sat curled in Sapati's lap, glaring at Chak.

Chak sat beside Lushka then and the exchanging of gifts began with Chak presenting Pallu with the three large birds. It was a symbol that he would provide for her in the future. She took the birds and gave her future husband false thanks, and then she handed over the basket of bread she had prepared that morning as a symbol to be his caregiver in the future. He smiled at her in thanks, but it was a poor act. Lushka then presented Bena and her daughters with some gifts. Mostly clothing and food and some household supplies like sleeping mats and needles. Bena and her eldest Lulu in turn reluctantly presented Lushka and his family with similar gifts.

When the exchanges were over, they all ate the food before them in almost complete silence. The birds Chak had given Pallu were set aside to be plucked later and eaten for dinner that night. Chak and Pallu were forced to sit side-by-side during the meal. It was very uncomfortable and they exchanged only a few sentences during the whole ordeal.

"You make very good bread." Chak whispered to her.

Pallu nodded as she finished chewing. When she swallowed, she replied, "Thank you." It was too curt to be an authentic thanks.

Still, Chak replied, "You're welcome." It was equally unauthentic.

That was all they said to each other that day.

* * *

The next morning, Pallu was once again woken early by an eager Kai. However, the girl was shooed out by Tawa and Sapati along with Alo and the twins soon after. Bena and Lulu arrived then and proceeded to help Sapati and Tawa dress Pallu in the clothes Chak had labored to create for her. As she had suspected, the stitches were all crooked. Pallu, however, found that fact no longer as amusing as it once was.

When she was dressed, Pallu was escorted out of tent and into the center of the camp where everyone already had seemingly gathered. Everyone was silent and every eye was on her. Every step she took towards Chak, Lushka, and their Wiseman was heavy and reluctant and slow. For the first time in her long life, Pallu wished that the earth would open up below her and swallow her whole, or perhaps that her entire being could just disappear into thin air just as it had appeared from it so many years ago in the deep, cold snow on the land bridge. Pallu felt tears prick the corner of her eyes as she finally came to stand beside Chak before Lushka and the Wiseman and that accursed wedding vase.

Once it had actually appeared beautiful before Pallu's eyes; now, all she could see in Tawa's creation was damnation.

The ceremony seemed to last a thousand years. When she and Chak shared a drink from their respective spouts of the wedding vase, the liquid burned Pallu's lips and tongue and throat even though it was ice cold. It tasted bitter too. When she was sure no one was looking a bit later, she spat at the ground multiple times, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. The feast that night wasn't jovial. It was subdued. Even the dancing and singing. The prayers and blessings were almost morose even though they were meant to be gleeful. And Pallu kept Chak at an arms length—at least as much as she could. She found herself often forced to stand within inches of him by circumstances. It aggravated Pallu greatly.

That night, however, as the feast ended and Chak and Pallu entered a small tent that had been set up by their people to be their humble abode for the remainder of the time they spent at the riverside, Pallu couldn't be angry at Chak. Not when his face was guilt ridden as they were all but herded into the tent by his people.

They both knew what would happen now that they were wed. What people would expect of them to solidify their union. If it didn't happen tonight, they knew it would mean nothing but trouble for the both of them from Lushka. So they wasted no time with awkward touches and hesitant kisses and the like. It was quick and passionless and Pallu was almost thankful for it that way. She didn't have any guilt over sharing anything intimate with him then. When Chak rolled over to his side of the tent to sleep, it was an even greater relief to Pallu. She did not wish to spend the night in the embrace of her new husband.

Right before she slipped off however, Chak said something that kept her awaking, wondering, for several more hours.

"Don't worry." He mumbled. It was almost incoherent because of his tired voice. "Tomorrow I have a real gift for you." And before Pallu could ask any questions, he was fast asleep.

* * *

The next morning, she awoke to Chak shaking her shoulder. At first, Pallu thought he was waking her up because she had overslept some, for usually she awoke with the rising sun. But when she opened her eyes, she saw no light slipping in through the opening in the tent to the outside world. It was still dark out. Pallu gave Chak an annoyed look even as she embarrassedly wiped drool from her chin. Chak seemed to find her face amusing for a moment before his expression became grave.

"Quickly. Get dressed." He ordered softly. Pallu did so warily, not understanding what was going on. She met Chak outside their tent. In his arms was a pack made up of basically everything one could carry for a journey and made to carry on one's back. Pallu looked at Chak with surprise. She looked around to see if anyone else was preparing for a long journey, as if the camp was about to pack up and leave, but saw no one. She scowled at Chak, wondering if this was all some cruel trick. Chak seemed to read her mind.

"You have to go." Chak explained. "This is perhaps the only chance you will get for a long time. It has to be now." He said. Pallu opened her mouth to ask a question, but it snapped shut when Chak seized her and hand and started tugging her towards the nearby woods. It was dark and hard to see, and they nearly tripped too many times to count. They made it up to the top of a small hill intact however. By then, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon and the landscape came to light. There, at the top of the hill, Chak released her hand and handed her the pack. Pallu pulled it on and secured it to her back, but still gave Chak wary looks as she did.

"They'll catch me if I run." She mumbled.

"Not if you run how I run." Chak said. Pallu looked at him confusedly and Chak smiled truly for the first time in awhile.

"I'll show you." He said, and in a blink of an eye, he was gone. Pallu looked around in astonishment. She whirled around in circles so many times searching for him she became dizzy. She found no trace of him. Not until she heard a shout from the east. She looked across the river to see Chak standing on the other side, waving. Pallu's jaw dropped.

In another blink, he was standing before her once again, and Pallu was left gaping. Chak gave her one of his lazy smiles and it almost seemed smug.

"H-how?" Pallu croaked shakily. Her mind was too boggled for more than one word questions at the moment.

"I'll show you." Chak said. He spent all of five minutes explaining how it was all about wishing he was a certain place and visualizing himself flashing from one location to another on his way to a certain destination. It only worked for places you had seen before he said, and you couldn't cover large distances really. It was like hopping or jumping as Chak put it. Even with that simple explanation however Pallu remained…dubious.

Still Chak assured her she could do it.

"Just close your eyes and think of anywhere else you've been already that you'd rather be right now. Then, think of all the places from here to there you'd have to go in order to get there. With each step you take, you'll be one closer to the place you wish to go. Remember, it's like hopping."

The last thing Pallu saw before she hesitantly closed her eyes was Chak's lazy half-smile. It was sad, she thought as she turned and took a single step forward, a grassy plain in her mind's eyes. With each step, the image in her head changed to another familiar image. A location. Each closer to her desired destination than the one before it.

When she opened her eyes, the sight of the sea greeted her and Chak was far, far away.

* * *

**A/N: In honor of Mother's Day, I give you the tenth chapter of Mothers. I hope you all enjoyed it. **

**Please review and follow~! I'd appreciate the feedback! **

**Have a wonderful day, all you moms out there, and be good to your own moms today everyone! You may not remember your birth, but your mothers do! **


	11. Pallu of Paleoamerica Part 4

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 11: Pallu of Paleoamerica Part 4

* * *

Chumani was born at midday early in the summer months not far from where she had been conceived. Pallu couldn't have been happier for Nanook and Aylen, Chumani's parents. Her new friends' joy was contagious.

"She looks like Nanook, doesn't she?" Aylen asked absently as she traced her newborn's features gently with one finger. Peering over Aylen's shoulder, Pallu couldn't help but agree. The sleeping babe certainly had Nanook's perpetually pouty lips. "She's beautiful, Aylen." Pallu whispered. Aylen turned to her smiling gratefully. "Thank you, Pallu. To have a great spirit such as yourself say that…it must be a great blessing from the Gods to have you here. Especially in your current condition." Aylen said, glancing down at Pallu's round stomach. Pallu continued smiling at her friend despite her desire to her roll her eyes exasperatedly. There she went again, treating her like some great spirit and her pregnancy like some blessed omen sent from the gods.

It was a few weeks after joining Aylen and Nanook's tribe that Pallu first came to terms with the fact she was indeed pregnant. At first, she had been sure that it was just her imagination or her body reacting to the recent turbulent changes in her life thanks to Chak and his people. But Aylen, who had been early in her own pregnancy at the time, had noticed the signs and helped Pallu accept the fact she was bearing Chak's child. Pallu remembered questioning what was worse: that she was pregnant with the child of the enemy or that she really wasn't upset by that fact at all?

Pallu had longed for a child for hundreds of years and now she was getting one. She honestly couldn't have been upset by that fact even if she tried. And she had tried, more than once. But it was seemingly impossible for her to be unhappy with her impending motherhood.

Not that she had forgiven Chak or his people. Pallu wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to think about them without her heart aching for her lost people or fury smoldering in her stomach for what Chak's people did to them. The only thing that kept her from despising Chak himself was that he had helped her escape and had shown her some sympathy. Still, he remained unforgiven. But the child was not the father in Pallu's opinion. What was important to Pallu was not who her child's father was, but rather that it was hers.

"Have you thought about what to name it?" The midwife Nita asked kindly from where she sat at foot of Aylen's bedside. Pallu flushed with embarrassment and shame. "No." She answered quietly. Nita shook her head at her and made a tsk sound. Aylen giggled. "Don't turn so red, Pallu, you might make flowers jealous." She teased, tickling Pallu's nose with the soft red petals of one of the flowers Nanook had brought her earlier. Pallu flushed even redder and swiped the flower away. "Oh stop, Aylen." Aylen grinned, but nodded her head. "Okay, but honestly, Pallu, I would have expected you to have put in _some _thought by now. Didn't you say you have always wanted a child of your own?" Pallu shrugged, embarrassed. "It's hard okay."

She had tried a million times to think of at least a _potential _name, but she had always come up with nothing. She had been around far too long, she had thought forlornly more than once. Every time she thought of a name it seemed to already be attached to someone or something, and sometimes more than one thing or person, that had some sort of negative connation attached to it in her mind. Pamuy—the name of a rather sarcastic girl she had known two hundred years ago. She had died rather tragically when she was swimming in a river and the current had pulled her under, never to resurface. Rika—the name of a boy who had been sweet and gentle; so much so that he refused to kill animals on hunts. His kindness was both the thing his father loved most in him and the thing about him that aggravated him to no end. There was never a day those two hadn't argued over Rika's nature; not even on the day Rika's father died. Kotori—a mischievous man whose ways had eventually cost him his life when his tricks resulted in the death of the chief's son. Pallu was fairly certain a few legends had been started thanks to that incident that still prevailed with some groups of her people. However, legendary now or not, Pallu didn't want her child to live with a name that their own mother couldn't help but attach to some sad or dark tale from her past.

"I need to think of a name." Pallu muttered to herself miserably. "That's kind of what I've been saying." Aylen said with a chuckle. Pallu shook her head at her friend. "No, no, I mean, I need to make up a name. A whole new name that no one else has ever had as a name before. Or at least one that I have never heard before, and trust me, I've heard a lot of names in my lifetime." Nita gave Pallu a dubious look. "You can't just _make up _a name." She said. Pallu puckered her lips. "Why not?" She asked sulkily. "Because, it would be foolish." Nita stated matter-of-factly.

Pallu balked at the old woman's words, as did Aylen. "Nita!" Aylen gasped. "You forget who Pallu is—" "I remember who Pallu is, child. But unlike everyone else in the world, I also remember that within that ageless skin is also an ageless mind. I will not let her status keep me from correcting her unwise decisions like I would any other young woman her age." With Aylen effectively silenced, Nita turned to Pallu with a stern look.

"Now, I realize that you have attached many faces to many names throughout your long life. As well as many feelings. Some good—the kind of feelings that make your heart warm and a smile come to your face—and some bad—the kind that turn your stomach and keep you awake at night—and some that are both at the same time." Nita's expression softened some then. "But you shouldn't let such things affect your child. If you love them truly, give them a name you love and feel they will be proud to call themselves, even if it's attached to a few negative feelings or memories." Slowly, a thankful smile came to Pallu's lips. "Thank you, Nita." She said, and Nita smiled at her in return. "Just doing my job, my dear."

* * *

"Maliho, what a sweet name." Kara commented as he felt Pallu's stomach by the campfire one evening. "Any special meaning behind it? I'm afraid I've never heard it before." He said. "Oh, yes," Pallu replied, smiling. "It was the name of a girl I knew a long, long time ago. I remember it because I was young myself then and had been jealous of how pretty her name was compared to mine. She really was a wonderful girl to grow up with, though. But when she got older, her lover fell in love with another woman and she became very bitter throughout the rest of her life." Kara looked at her with surprise. "Forgive me, Pallu, but…why would you name your child such a thing?" He ventured. Pallu shrugged, glancing briefly at Nita on the other side of the fire pit through a haze of smoke and fly-away embers. "Someone gave me some good advice."

* * *

Weeks later, the tribe packed up camp and started moving south. Summer was coming to a close, and though it had been a long and especially hot season, autumn was on the horizon, with winter nipping at its heels. However, as Pallu soon discovered, the trek south was not as easy for this tribe as it was for others she had traveled with in the past. To the south of their summer hunting grounds, as Kara and his brother Lukaka explained to her, their was a people who had settled permanently on the land there, cultivating it rather than picking and hunting their fill before moving on. How strange, Pallu though upon being informed of this. She had never known any of her people not to come and go with the seasons. She couldn't really see the appeal in living such a life, either. What was the fun of staying in one place your whole life, especially when there was so much in the world to see?

As the tribe's procession made its way to the west, where they would follow the sea shore south until they reached a small strip of land boarded by the sea on three sides and take refuge for the winter, Pallu couldn't help but think of the year previously. She couldn't help but think back on those last days of summer fondly. It had been right before she felt Chak's presence for the first time, when all she truly despaired over was her childlessness. But not being a mother had been bearable thanks to her people. She remembered Hono and Wayna's banter from their foraging expeditions, Meesha and her sister's playful pranks on her, the little children who used to frolic nearby as their mothers and sisters picked berries and their fathers hunted, and the stories and songs sung around the fire at night together under the stars. She wondered how they all faired now. Those of them who had been alive when she left that is…

"You're thinking about them again, aren't you." Junto said beside her as they walked a worn out trail through the foothills of the western mountains. It was no question, Pallu knew. Sadly, she nodded her head. Junto sighed and reached over to pat her on the back. "It's okay. They are in a better place anyway, so there's no use mourning them. Tragic as the way they left this world was." Junto looked over at her with curious eyes. "You never did elaborate, now that I think of it." Pallu gave him a look. "Elaborate on what exactly?" She asked. "Why what happened happened. You said half of the last tribe you were with was wiped out by an enemy tribe from across the great river. But you never said why they went to such lengths." He clarified. Pallu shook her head dejectedly at his words. "I'd rather not. It's a sore subject for me." Junto fixed her with a searching gaze for a moment before nodding his head understandingly. "It would be for me too."

A long silence passed between the two of them before Junto spoke again. "Forgive me, but…how did you escape?" He inquired. Pallu focused her gaze on her feet, not wanting to meet his eyes as she answered. "Some of my people helped me flee in the night a few weeks after the take over." She lied. "Why did it take so long?" Junto pressed. Pallu swallowed, remembering the agony of those few weeks leading up to her escape. Hono's death, the wedding. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. "They didn't let their guard down on me for a long time." She said. "A few weeks doesn't seem like a long time." Junto said. "It was for me." Pallu seethed under her breath, anger bubbling in her stomach remembering it all. "True, but not to them most likely, so why did they let their guard down so soon? They must have had their reasons." Junto continued. "They just did, okay?" Pallu snapped, but Junto was not visibly deterred in his curiosity. "So you don't know why?" He queried with a raised eyebrow. Pallu's right hand twitched at her side. "No." She lied in a low voice. Suddenly, Junto's curious expression became incredibly grave. "Pallu, you can tell me…or one of the women if it makes you more comfortable…you don't have to lie." He whispered, his tone oddly sympathetic considering how harsh his questioning had just been a moment previously. Pallu looked at him with confusion and surprise. "What do you want me to say?" She asked warily. Junto's mouth formed a grim line. "Pallu, did they…force you do to anything?" He gave her stomach at pointed look. Pallu froze and drew in a sharp breath that she was unable to release due to the overwhelming shock she was experiencing.

When she finally released that breath, a single word escaped with it. "_What?" _Junto gave her stomach another pointed look before gesturing with his head behind them. "Don't act so surprised. We've all been wondering." His words only served to horrify her even more. Her hands flew to her round stomach, as if to shield it from the accusations of its origins. "I was _not_ raped, Junto, if that is what you are implying." She spat, but Junto's expression remained grim. "Pallu, you don't have to lie. I know, the tribe knows, that you have been hiding something from us. Something terrible happened to you, and we only wish to know what so we can help you." He said seriously. Pallu regarded him uncertainly. "Fine…I'll tell you the truth, but know this: you're still wrong." She whispered. Junto seemed dubious for a moment before nodding his acceptance of her words.

So she told him everything so he could pass it along to everyone else. About her meeting of Chak and his people, Hanu and Lushka's quarrel over the river, the betrayal, and finally her arranged marriage to Chak, who had helped her escape. Junto had been flabbergasted. "He _helped_ you run away?!" He had asked incredulously, and Pallu had nodded confirmation, that yes, he indeed had. By nightfall, word had spread like wildfire throughout the tribe, and around the fire pit that night, Pallu found herself even more popular than usual.

"So he rescued you from the great river? He must have swam like a fish!" A young girl, Howa, exclaimed as she and many other youths gathered near Pallu that evening. "Was that another one of his great abilities, Pallu?" Tepa, another young girl, asked. Pallu shrugged shyly under the girls' questioning and the many other curious eyes on her. "I wouldn't know. I was a little busy being waterlogged." She replied, making a few of the youths chuckle. "It must have been, though!" Kisha, a young man who sat by her feet stated confidently. "I mean, he had super strength and super speed, so why not super swimming, too!?" Several other boys nodded their agreement.

A girl sitting next to Pallu let out a dreamy sigh. "He sounds like a dream come true—he really must have been a gift from the gods. There's no other logical explanation for how perfect a man could be." She said, and many of her peers seemed to agree. Pallu frowned at the girl's words though. "He wasn't perfect though." She said. All the youths around her looked at her with surprise. "I knew Chak only briefly, but I can still tell you, he wasn't perfect. Just like I'm not perfect and none of you are perfect. And he wouldn't want to called or treated like he was perfect either." Pallu continued. Tepa seemed intrigued. "How wasn't he perfect?" She asked.

Pallu stopped and thought back to the days she had spent with Chak, few as they were. Many of her thoughts, she found with no surprise, were tinted with bitterness, but if she looked beneath that layer of disgust, she could remember Chak a bit more honestly. She supposed it wasn't hard to mistake him as perfect at first glance (she sort of did, after all). He was an immortal like her, praised like some god or gift from the gods, who had abilities beyond the average human's as well as a fairly compassionate nature. But Pallu remembered his glum demeanor—almost perpetually melancholy—and how after getting over the excitement of meeting one of her own kind—and of course being betrayed, Pallu though spitefully despite herself—Pallu quickly realized how mopey Chak could be almost all the time, even with those lazy, crooked, half-smiles of his-actually, _especially _with those lazy, crooked, half-smiles of his. It could be pretty annoying at times to say the least, and not just to her. Did he not know how act excited or genuinely happy? Not to mention how submissive he was to not only Lushka, but seemingly all his people and their demands of him. "Chak, help me skin this.", "Hey, hold this for me, Chak.", "You wouldn't mind carrying this, would you, Chak?", "Chak, I could really use some help with this." In all her years, Pallu had known very few people to have weaker backbones than Chak when it came to refusing others. In all the weeks she had known him, not once had she ever seen him able to refuse anyone, even when he should have.

She explained all this to the young men and women around her, who seemed amazed by this new information. A few of the younger kids, however, were severely disappointed. "He sounds like a real strange guy." Gigi pouted beside his brother. "Yeah, no wonder you didn't want to marry him." Lula said. Pallu frowned at the girl's words. "I didn't want to marry him because I was being forced to by my conquerors, not because Chak wasn't everything I dreamed of in a husband, Lula." She chastised the girl. Under her gaze, Lula shrunk and looked up at her apologetically along with some of her peers. "I'm sorry." She whispered. Pallu sighed and reached down to give the girl a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "It's okay, you're young."

"So wait," Tepa interjected. "You ran away after you married Chak, so you two are still married technically." Pallu nodded confirmation of the girl's words. "But you're never going to see him again probably. Doesn't that bother you a little? I mean, even if you don't love him, he's the only one of your kind you've ever met, and you're bearing his child!" Several other youths nodded their agreement with Tepa's words. Pallu smiled sadly at the youths. "It would be nice to see him again someday and thank him for his help properly." She said, rubbing her stomach. "But I don't think we'll ever cross paths again. At least, I hope not." The youths looked confused. "Why would you hope not?" Kisha asked. "Because," Pallu said. "Where Chak is, so are his people."

* * *

It was in the early days of autumn, as they camped near the sea shore on the eastern coast, that Pallu gave birth to Maliho. She was a born at dusk, just as the sun was sinking into the horizon, painting the ocean and sky a rainbow of new colors. With the sound of waves hitting the sea shore in the background, Maliho let out her first cries with the dark tent. Nita checked her over and hushed her some before handing her to an excitedly awaiting Pallu. Her child finally in her arms, Pallu let her lips part into a wide, elated smile and her tears slip down her cheeks.

It had been hundreds and hundreds of years, but finally, her dream had come true. She was a mother.

* * *

"She's so beautiful." Aylen commented as they sat by the seashore days later, watching several children play in the waves with their fathers and uncles and elder brothers, who had just returned from a brief hunt. Pallu chuckled watching Nanook toss his nephew high into the air. The boy let out a squeal of fright which quickly turned into a jovial laugh of relief when his father caught him before he could crash into the water. The relief was short lived, as his father tossed him right back to Nanook to repeat the game. Tenna's mother, who sat near them weaving a basket, looked about ready to rip her husband and good-brother limb from limb watching their antics. "Thank you." Pallu replied smiling to Aylen, shifting Maliho in her lap so she could continue her sewing more efficiently.

It took a moment for Pallu to notice Aylen's eerie silence beside her. She turned to her friend with a questioning gaze. Aylen looked shamefacedly away at a nearby half-destroyed sand sculpture that some of the children had abandoned earlier. The waves, as well as other children, had made quick work of the flimsy structure. "Aylen?" Pallu ventured. "Is there something you'd like to say?" Hesitantly, Aylen faced her again. "I was going to…" She fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "Does she," She nodded towards Maliho. "look like him?"

Pallu slowly looked down at her daughter and examined her face at her friend's query. Not that she hadn't looked at her daughter's face before, but she had never actively searched it for signs of her father. Now that she did finally look, she found them.

Her hair may have been dark as night like her own, but her skin was a shade similar to Chak's and his people. Her eyes hadn't settled on a color yet of course, but Pallu had a sneaking suspicion that they'd be the same soft brown color as Chak's. She already had the same eye shape as her father. Yes, now that Pallu looked, she could indeed see a resemblance between her daughter and her father.

"Yes, she does a little." She replied to Aylen.

* * *

Autumn was drawing to a close when they finally made it to the tiny peninsula to the south. Within weeks of their arrival, their camp had established a temporary village close to the seashore. The village was made up of small, temporary structures made of wood and furs. They wouldn't last long, but since they only planned to stay until spring, that didn't matter. Even if they wanted to stay longer, according to Kara and Nanook, several tribes from the north migrated to the peninsula in the spring, and there would certainly be a clash between them if they lingered until the northerner's arrival.

It was disconcerting news to Pallu. There had once been a time when her people were so peaceful with one another, but as the years passed, more and more strife was bred between all the different tribes. They all began to branch apart, like twigs from one sturdy branch of a tree, each unique in their own way. Different gods, different myths, different clothes, different celebrations, different tongues, different faces even; Pallu wondered how long her people would remain her people.

"Pallu?" Aylen called, poking her head inside Pallu's hut. "Yes?" Pallu asked as she detached Maliho from her breast. The infant girl let out a small whine, but hushed relatively easily as Pallu quickly handed her one of her favorite toys. "Some of the other women were talking about going to collect sea shells down shore to make necklaces. I was wondering if you'd like to come along." She said. "I don't know. I mean, I'm so tired. Maliho has kept me up almost every night this week." Pallu replied somewhat guiltily, but it was the truth. Even at that very moment, she couldn't help but feel the need to lie down. Aylen sighed and stepped fully into the hut then and sat beside her.

"Are you sure you don't want help? I'm sure someone in the tribe would be willing to stay with you and help out. Like Kara or even Tepa. They adore Maliho and neither of them are married or have children of their own yet since they're so young, so it's not like you'd be dividing their attention so badly." Pallu smiled thinly at her words. Aylen as well as many others had been saying the same thing to her for weeks now, but Pallu refused to heed their words. "If I've said it once, I've said it a million times, Aylen. I want to raise Maliho on my own." Aylen let out an exasperated noise. "But it takes more than one person to raise a child!" She protested. "Please, Pallu," She pleaded. "Don't be stubborn. We worry about you. We only want to help." Pallu shook her head at Aylen then. "I know," She said. "But I have been waiting for this opportunity almost my whole life. This could be my only chance to experience motherhood really, and I want to experience it for all it's worth, wholly unadulterated." Aylen huffed through her nose, but nodded her head. "I suppose that's understandable. I just wish you'd at least let someone watch her for a bit once in awhile so you could get a proper rest. In fact, why not just hand her over to me and I'll watch her while you rest."

Pallu gave an uncertain noise of reply and shifted uncomfortably, holding Maliho closer to her subconsciously. "I don't know." She mumbled. Aylen rolled her eyes. "Please. If it makes you feel better, I'll even stay here." "But what about the sea shells?" Pallu asked. "There will always be seashells." Aylen replied with a dismissive hand wave. So, though somewhat hesitantly, Pallu laid her head down to rest.

* * *

_Ice. Ice as far as the eye could see. Ice to the east, ice to the west, ice to the south, ice to the north; the world was nothing but glistening wet ice that shone under the hot sun. It was a strange mix, Pallu thought. She could feel the bone-chilling cold seeping through the bottoms of her boots, but her face burned under the sun's bright beams. Bringing a gloved hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the light, she looked up at the sun and wondered why it burned so hotly. She hadn't felt such heat since the peak of summer, and that had been farther south, where the ice did not dwell. That was another thing that worried Pallu about her situation. She was on the ice. For the first time since perhaps when she had been a little girl traveling with the tribes who dared to live in the far north, she stood atop one of the great hunks of ices that had towered over the land to the north for as long as she could remember. How had she gotten up here, she wondered. _

_It must be a dream, was her first thought, and it made sense. She could clearly remember falling asleep in her hut before ending up here. That in mind, Pallu found herself significantly more at ease with her circumstances. But this all being a dream begged the question of what would happen now. Pallu supposed this would be the point in the dream where a monster from a legend would pop out through the surface of the ice and scare her awake. But that didn't happen. So, instead, Pallu figured she'd dream of something that had already happened; it wouldn't have been the first time she had dreamed of her past. But then she realized there was nothing familiar about the setting of her dream. Nothing except for ice. Which was not something Pallu thought of fondly, which led her back to her nightmare theory..._

_"Greetings, it's about time you fell in a deep enough sleep that I could contact you." A voice suddenly spoke behind her. Pallu whirled around, expecting to find a familiar face. What she found instead was a person she had never seen before once in her life, much to her confusion. Several feet away from her stood a woman with hair and skin much like her own, but had unusual eyes. From this distance, Pallu could not tell what color they were, just that they seemed alive with energy. But that was not the strangest thing about the woman; no the strangest thing was the fact she stood stark naked before Pallu with no visible irritation with the cold ice beneath her feet or the hot sun beating down on her face. Though when Pallu thought about it, it _was _a dream, so common sense and logic didn't really apply. _

_The woman was smiling at Pallu at first, but then her lips formed a pout. She brought her hands to her hips and fixed Pallu with an irritated look. "Aren't you going to reply?" She asked. Pallu blushed slightly but shook it off. "Uh, greetings to you as well..." She trailed off, grasping for some way of addressing the woman before her. "stranger." She finally supplied. The woman's pout turned back into a smile, this one more amused than the previous one. "Stranger? Is that what you call your own _mother_?" The woman said laughingly. Pallu gaped at her, taken aback by what she had just heard. "_Mother_?!" The woman nodded and gave a grand sweeping wave of her arm towards herself. "Yes, I am she who gave you, as well as all other beings of this world, life. I am the land beneath your feet and the water that you drink, and the life-giver to every plant, animal, and person of the world. I am _the _mother." She announced grandiosely with a somewhat smug smile on her face. _

_Pallu stared at the woman for a long moment before making her own announcement. "This is by far the strangest dream I have _ever _had. And that's coming from the girl who once dreamt of riding a flying mammoth through the sky while hunting giant bird monsters that talked." The woman, her so-called mother, gave her a strange look then before seemingly shaking herself of it and instead huffing with indignation. "Honestly, every time, it's the same old thing. And my children wonder why I don't visit them more. They hardly ever believe I am who I say I am when I do." She grumbled, though Pallu was certain it was to herself rather than her. Intrigued, Pallu took a few steps closer to the woman. "Okay, if you're my mother-_the _mother, than prove it." She challenged. The woman rolled her eyes at her however. "Nothing I do in a dream will convince you." She said. "Then why come in a dream?" Pallu asked. It did seem like pretty poor planning. "I hardly like doing these little interventions as it is. Doing them on the plane of tangible reality is even worse. Dreams, at least, keep pesky humans out of the way. It's just you and I here, which makes this a lot easier. Just trust me, I know what I'm doing." A realization struck Pallu. "Wait! You've done this before?" She gasped. The woman nodded her head, though somewhat exasperatedly. "Alas, I have been forced to do this once or twice already in the past with a few of your siblings." She explained, and before Pallu could ask anything else, she quickly followed up with, "But that's not important. What's important is what I came to speak to you about, my child."_

_"And what would that be?" Pallu questioned tentatively. The woman, the Mother, gave a deep sigh. "You have disrupted the natural flow." She answered. Pallu's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What flow? And how did I disrupt it?" "The flow is the natural progression and evolution of the world and mankind in accordance to destiny. If disrupted, well, let's just say destiny does not like improvisation." The Mother explained, shivering a little at the end. "But how did I disrupt the flow?" Pallu asked worriedly. The Mother's expression grew serious. "When you fled to the west and had your daughter along the western shores, I sensed a disturbance in the flow. You see, your daughter, like you, is meant to represent a certain people, a new group of people who are developing their own unique culture at this very moment. However, your daughter is not with them. You see, your daughter is meant to grow under the influences of both yours and her father's peoples' cultures. If she grows up only under the influence of yours, her bond with her people will be disrupted, which could be disastrous for her future and who knows what else. Trust me, you don't want to know what happens when destiny has to rearrange itself. To say it's a mess would be an understatement."  
_

_"So, so what are you saying?" Pallu asked, growing ever more frustrated. "What am I supposed to do? How do I fix this?" _

_The Mother's mouth formed a grim line. "You know what you must do." She said._

_Pallu felt horror grasp her heart with an icy claw. "You can't mean-No! No, I won't! I don't care who you are, stupid dream or mother of all things, I will not just abandon my only child!" Pallu shouted furiously, taking a threatening step towards the woman, who remained irritatingly unfazed by her behavior. _

_"Usually, I would not ask this sort of thing of one of my children. But you represent a people who travel and live too far away from what will one day be your daughter's lands for it to be healthy for your daughter to be raised among them. You must take her there to be raised by her own people or risk throwing the flow into chaos." The woman pressed. _

_"Why can't I just take her there and raise her still? Why can't I live amongst her people as well?" Pallu persisted. _

_"Because you have your own people for now to worry about and your daughter's future lands lie within her father's. If anyone is going to watch over her, than it would have to be him." _

_"But-" _

_"But nothing, Pallu!" The Mother shouted angrily, her lively eyes suddenly burning like embers from a fire. They cooled just as suddenly a second later after Pallu flinched violently in fright at the sight. The Mother's fury visibly melted from her expression, leaving a cool as ice mask of calm behind. "You must do this. I know it is harsh and cruel, but that is how the world is for your kind. But just in case you need more incentive to do the right thing, I will tell you this: it's not just you and your daughter who could be effected. Not even I know how destiny would react to this disruption in the flow. It is a fickle force. It could be a minuscule reaction...but it could also change the course of mankind's fate, as well as my own. Think of it: centuries that would have been spent peacefully now would instead become marred by war and other travesties. Friendships that would have been formed between two peoples become bitter rivalries. Great men and women might not even ever be born. And all because you refuse to give your daughter to the right people." The Mother reached out and ran her soft hands against Pallu's frost-covered cheek. "Now," The Mother whispered, meeting Pallu's dark eyes with hers. They weren't eyes though. They were swirling tempests of every color and emotion Pallu had ever known. "Do you really think that's fair, Pallu?"  
_

* * *

Pallu's blinked awake, feeling herself being shaken. She looked up with a small groan to see Aylen sitting beside her with a worried face. "Are you okay, Pallu?" She asked. Confused at first, Pallu nodded her head and began to sit up. "Where's Maliho?" She asked with a yawn. Aylen tilted her head in the direction of Maliho's sleeping basket on the far edge of the small hut. "Fast asleep." Aylen said happily, though she quickly regained her worried expression. "Are you alright really, because you were muttering some odd things while you were asleep." She said. Pallu flushed, the worst possibilities coming to mind. "Nothing embarrassing!" Aylen clarified, noticing her blush apparently. "Just...odd stuff. You were being fitful too." She mumbled. "What exactly did I say?" Pallu asked curiously. Aylen hesitated before answering. "You were telling this person...'Mother'...not to take Maliho away."

And then, like a dam had broken, it all came rushing back to her. Before she knew it, Pallu flew across the room over to her daughter's sleeping form and had her in her arms before Aylen could properly react. The poor woman had been rather harshly shoved aside by Pallu and now looked at her with wide worriful eyes. "Pallu...?" She whispered. But Pallu could hardly give the young woman a speck of her attention, which at the moment, was fixed almost entirely on her baby in her arms. When Pallu started crying, Aylen silently took her leave from the hut.

The next evening, when the rest of the tribe was just laying down to experience far more pleasant dreams than the one she had had the evening before, Pallu packed up and left with Maliho, setting out north using the trick Chak had taught her. Withing moments, she and her daughter stood at the top of the hill where Pallu had last seen Maliho's father. Balancing Maliho on her hip, Pallu let smiled at her baby girl's face as the young one looked out over the great vast, beautiful landscape before her eyes with great curiosity. "That's your father's land, my dear one." Pallu whispered in Maliho's ear, bouncing her little girl lightly. "We're going to go over there and look for your people." Pallu felt tears prick her eyes. "Aren't you excited?" Even if Maliho's wide, toothless smile probably had more to do with gas than actual happiness, it still stabbed Pallu right in the heart.

* * *

"What are you doing out here?" Chak asked upon appearing a few feet behind her. Pallu paid him no mind. She had sensed him earlier that morning to the north. She had known he would eventually show up. But at the moment, his presence really couldn't have mattered less to her. She stared over the edge of the small rocky cliff down at the river, where a young man was holding her daughter, looking around confusedly for the baby's mother. He was one of Maliho's people, Pallu had known instinctively upon seeing him. Though it had pained her heart in so many ways when she had felt it. It had pained her more to set her daughter down on the riverbed, leaving her there to cry as the young man drew closer, having been lured by the stones fake-screams for help Pallu had made. How she had wished she could just rip her own heart out her chest as she used the trick Chak had showed her to get to the top of the cliff before the young man arrived. How she had cursed the Mother as she hid herself partially behind a tree from the young man's eyes. How she wished she could just die then and there.

"What are you doing here?" Chak repeated with more force this time. Pallu finally turned to him, not even bothering to wipe away or try to stop her tears. "Watch over her, please." She pleaded, and Chak had a bewildered expression, not understanding clearly, but Pallu knew he eventually would. She stood up then and turned to the west. In a blink of her own eye, she was gone.

* * *

Years passed, and Pallu never had her own child, the fruit of her very own womb, ever again. But that didn't mean the Mother didn't allow her small mercies. Those mercies came in the form of several little girls and little boys who she found throughout her travels in the following years. They were like her, she would discover upon finding them lost in the woods or playing in the mud. She traveled with each one of these children until they started to grow up and loved each and every one of them like her own. She cooked for them and sang them lullabies, held their hands as they walked and held them when they had nightmares, taught them how to string bows and weave baskets, and taught them the one lesson she had found their kind had best learn early in life: their existences are cruel and unfair and tragic...but that didn't mean they couldn't make the most of it.

But eventually, there always came a time when the child would look at her one day, smiling innocently, and wave goodbye to her as she set out to move on to the next group of her people she would live with, as the child intended to stay behind and live in a small village year round rather than migrate with the seasons like herself. Some had chosen to migrate still, but even with those young ones, Pallu often found there would be a day where a fork in the road would be met, and she would go one way and the child the other. Regardless of the circumstances of the parting, the goodbyes were always tender and sweet and heartfelt. Each one was a stab in her heart, yes, but in the end, Pallu was proud of them and happy that she was able to do what she had to help her own kind. She always hoped, watching their figures grow smaller in the distance, that the Mother was kinder to them than she was to her.

With each passing year, the great masses of ice to the north melted more and more, and the whole world seemed to grow warmer as well. One day, Pallu remembered looking around and realizing great, vast, never-ending plains and beautiful sparkling lakes now existed where the ice had once been. That was also the day she looked at her reflection in one of those clear lake's waters and saw just how old she had really become. Her once beautiful face was worn and ravaged by lines. Her hair was gray at the roots. Her eyes were tired. That was when it occurred to her that she was also the last of her kind. There was no one left in the world that she could call her people.

Chak had disappeared long ago, she knew. The children who had appeared in the east had replaced him some years ago. She remembered feeling a pang of regret when she felt his presence disappear, for she had always avoided speaking or seeing him since the day she gave up Maliho. She had never been able to talk to him about so many things. About their complicated existences, about their pasts, about what might have been if Lushka hadn't ruined everything, about the Mother...but most of all, about their daughter. Pallu wondered what his face looked like when he figured out Maliho was their daughter. The thought brought a smile to her face.

Eventually, there came a day where Pallu knew her end was near. So, for no particular reason except wanting to see it one last time, she headed the farthest southern tip of land she knew in existence. In her old age, Pallu was especially thankful for that trick Chak had taught her all those years ago, for she arrived at her destination within a day's time, just as the sun was beginning its descent. It was there on the sandy beach that Pallu sat down and hugged her aching knees to her chest and looked out over the horizon with a peaceful smile. She thought of her life, from the icy beginning to that moment, and while she found a number of great regrets, she could not bring herself to be bitter in her final moments.

She had lived a good life in her own opinion. Not the best certainly, but still not the worst. It was...somewhere in-between grisly and awe-inspiring, similar to the lives of the tragic legendary heroes many humans nowadays spoke of around their camp fires. In the end, Pallu supposed that was the only sort of existence her kind was meant for.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, did this take long to do. I really struggled with this and I hope it came out good and was worth the wait everybody. **

**A really hope you enjoyed Pallu's arc everyone; the next one up is going to be Keivan Rus.**

**So please review, feedback would be really appreciated, and again, sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoyed this arc/chapter!**


	12. Bonus Two: First Meeting

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The mothers of the nations.

BONUS #2: First Meeting

* * *

With every step he took east, Alwin's foreboding sense of dread was nurtured. He shouldn't be doing this, he kept thinking, but his feet kept moving forward anyways. His mother was going to be so angry when she found out, he just knew it. Then why was he doing it? He wondered for the hundredth time. Because he was curious, he admitted to himself as he walked down the beach, his boots kicking up white sand with each step.

He had begun this little expedition of his early that morning shortly after his mother left to see a human friend of hers who had taken ill. She wouldn't be back until supper, she had told Alwin that morning as they ate their breakfast. While she was gone, a human neighbor was going to keep an eye on him. There was an unspoken warning in her tone to behave while she was away. Alwin had nodded his head at his mother's words with every intention of heeding her words.

But then he had felt something to the east. It was another of his kind's presence, he knew, but not one he had ever felt before. It was weak and it was odd and wasn't familiar to Alwin in the slightest. At first, it made him wary. Perhaps it's an enemy, he had thought, peering out a window in the direction the presence was. He considered going to his mother and warning her that another of their kind was close by and he didn't recognize it, but then he realized that the weak presence wasn't weak because it was far away, but because it was in fact actually weak. Even if it was an enemy, it couldn't do him or his mother any harm, Alwin realized.

And it wasn't like it was getting closer either, he found soon after. For the first few hours of the morning, Alwin had paid close attention to the presence, but discovered it wasn't moving towards his mother's land after all, and probably wouldn't in the future either. Still, with each passing minute after these realizations were made, Alwin found his curiosity intensifying.

Eventually, he could no longer contain himself and when the neighbor wasn't looking, Alwin made his escape into the nearby woods. He trekked through the woods until he made it to the beach, and from there, he walked along the shoreline eastward.

It hadn't been long before his anxieties started to creep up on him. Mainly, his fear of his mother's wrath. Alwin had thankfully been able to avoid his She-Bear of a mother's fury in the past, being the fairly well-behaved, if stubborn child that he was. His little brother hadn't been so lucky.Áki was a rowdy boy and often got himself into trouble with his antics, which was why Mother had taken him with her today to see her friend. Best to keep a close eye on the boy herself than come back home and have to punish him for some mischief he got into while she was away. Alwin shuddered to imagine what kind of punishment he would get when he got home.

Damn it, why didn't he just turn around? Maybe if he hurried than he would make it home before the neighbor noticed he had even been gone. Alwin halted his steps and scowled at the horizon. "I should just turn around right now," He growled. Tentatively, he began to turn around and walk back in the direction he had come from. But in the back of his head, his subconscious, which had before whispered how much he would get in trouble for his actions, decided to do a turn around as well. But you're already so close, pressed. You've come so far, why turn around now? If you go back now, you'll probably still get in trouble. You've been long too long not to. If you're going to be punished, at least make it worth it. Turn around, keep going, satisfy your curiosity, his subconscious insisted. Alwin stopped in his tracks yet again, uncertain of what he should do.

It took a deep moment of thought, but eventually he came to the decision that he would make no decision. At least not by himself. He looked out over the sea and searched for something unpredictable. He found it in the form of two gulls flying above the water. One was noticeably bigger than the other, and that is how he told them apart. Alwin decided that if the larger gull dived into the water first, he'd go home. If the smaller gull dived first, he'd continue on his little adventure eastward. If neither dove into the water before Alwin counted to one hundred, than he'd go home.

Alwin watched the birds flap their wings high above his head and the sea as he counted softly under his breath. Sometimes, though, he'd miss up. He was sure he counted 'twenty-six' twice when his breath caught at the sight of the bigger gull taking a sudden nosedive. But the bird had veered upward at the last second for some reason, and Alwin was forced to resume counting. At 'fifty-two', the smaller one did the same, and Alwin ceased counting as he watched the bird descend. A tiny voice inside him prayed for it to veer up at the last second like the bigger gull had earlier, but it didn't. With a small splash, the gull entered the water, and Alwin's decision was made for him.

Continuing eastward a moment later, Alwin cursed himself for putting the fate of his bottom in the hands—wings?—of two dumb animals.

Soon afterward, he found himself too excited to really be irritated anymore. Within only several minutes of walking, he felt the presence as close by as around a bend in the shore line. Suddenly, his anxieties about getting in trouble disappeared. However, they were quickly replaced by both eagerness and fear of what lied just around the corner for him. Many possibilities sprung to mind immediately, just like they had back at home when he had first noticed the presence. He was also reminded quite vicious manner by his subconscious of all those stories about curious children who ended up killed or eaten by the end of their ill-fated adventures.

Alwin came to the conclusion that his subconscious hated him and wished only to torture him by giving him bad advice and conjuring up a number of disturbing images to feed his fears. He wondered if that meant he was self-loathing. Like Eberhard, who liked it when people hit him and called him names and whom his mother advised for him and Áki stay far, far away from for whatever reason.

No matter though, Alwin thought. He hadn't come all this way and damned himself to his mother's wrath for nothing. So, with all the bravery he could gather, Alwin rounded the bend in the beach. For the third time, he found himself stopping in his path. This time, at what he saw rather than what he thought.

Just a bit further down the beach, not more than a couple meters, a girl sat in the sand, building some sort of sculpture with the sand and nearby shells and seaweed. The girl had long brown hair that was half-dry by the looks of it that was combed away from her face, though some shorter locks remained stubbornly in her face. Her clothes, like her hair, were damp. She must have been in the water very recently, Alwin thought. Her attire wasn't much different from the clothes of the little girls of his mother's people, he found, though she did seem to wear an awful lot of jewelry for a girl so young. The girl was about his age physically.

She didn't seem to notice him at first, too consumed with her project seemingly, but when Alwin took a step closer, she looked up, smiling. "Oh, so you're the one I felt!" She exclaimed, and she began standing up, brushing off her dress as she did. She walked towards with an outstretched hand and a serene and sweet smile. "Hello, it's nice to meet you." She said. Hesitantly, Alwin reached out as well and shook her hand. When he let go, she pulled back her hand and clasped it with the other behind her back.

"Are you like me?" She asked with a curious tilt of her head.

Alwin slowly nodded her head, cautiously eyeing the girl all the while. He wasn't sure what it was, but this girl seemed very odd to him. Perhaps it was because she was acting so…friendly. Hadn't her mother or father ever warned her about being wary of strangers, especially strangers that were of their kind? Then, a thought struck Alwin.

"Were you born like a human, or did you come from the land?" He asked.

At first, the girl looked at him with confused blue-green eyes. But then she gave a shrug of her shoulders and returned to that unperturbed smiling of hers. "I guess I was born from the land. I don't have a mother or a father if that's what you mean. One day, I just kind of—"

"Woke up." Alwin finished for her. His mother had told him the same thing once.

The girl beamed. "You know how all this stuff works?!" She asked excitedly, and Alwin nodded. "Yes, my mother taught me." He explained. The girl made a sound of glee, and the hands clasped behind her back soon ended up on his shoulders. Alwin realized then that the girl was a good couple inches taller than him, though he guessed he outweighed her at least by a fair margin. Her scrawny frame made him seem plump in comparison. "That's great!" The girl cheered with a wide grin. "You can explain it to me then—finally, someone can teach me all about this, this—what are we exactly?" She asked quietly, her excited demeanor deflating with puzzlement. Alwin shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not really all that sure myself." He admitted shyly, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly at the confession. "I'm still learning too."

The girl's lips formed a pout, but she nodded understandingly and released his shoulders from her grip. She crossed her skinny arms around her chest. "Well, I guess we'll just have to learn together then." She murmured to her feet. She looked through her eyelashes at him and smiled in a shy manner that Alwin hadn't expected out of her. "My name's Migla by the way. What's yours?" Abruptly, Alwin got a strange feeling that something important was happening in this moment. He wondered what it was, for a fraction of a minute, before recognizing that this was the beginning of a friendship. He had watched it happen before, between humans, but had never really experienced it for himself. As he introduced himself to his new friend, Migla, he wondered where this friendship would eventually lead.

* * *

**A/N: I couldn't help it. The idea popped in my head and I had to. These babies…I love them.**

**I hope you enjoyed this. I'll update with the first part of Kievan Rus' arc in a week or so, so hold tight. **

**Please follow and review, and thank you very much for reading!**


	13. Mstislava of Kievan Rus Part 1

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 12: Mstislava of Kievan Rus Part 1

* * *

Kievan Rus awoke to a harsh ramping at her front door. Letting out a groan, the young woman sat up in her bed and glared at the accursed door as she threw off her blankets and climbed out of bed. What was he doing here this late, she wondered, sensing who was behind the door. The harsh knocking continued as she threw an ankle-length sorochka over her head and smoothed it over her chemise. "I'm coming! I'm coming!" She called as she leant down to put her lapti on her feet. The knocking stopped for a moment, but picked up again, much to Kievan Rus' annoyance. Deciding to forgo fully dressing, Kievan approached her front door and pulled it open, forcing the irksome knocking to cease.

"This better be important, Magyar." Kievan Rus said warningly to the nation standing before her. However, she suddenly felt worry creep into her at the sight of his state. Magyar's slim frame was only barely standing up right, and his light blond hair was matted with wet. By the looks of his eyes, he had been crying. And the most horrific discovery of all, Kievan found upon her examination, was the massive stain of blood on the insides of his pants legs. She was sure if she lifted the hem of his tunic, her suspicions of where the blood was coming from would be confirmed.

"Magyar, are you okay?" Kievan Rus spoke gently, reaching out to the physically younger nation. Magyar resembled a young teenager, while Kievan had the appearance of an almost grown woman, though they didn't look too far apart in age really. Just a few physical years in actuality. Some humans might have mistaken them for siblings due to the fact they both had the same shade of light blond hair. Magyar's green eyes met Kievan Rus' violet ones; they were full of panic.

Before she knew it, Kievan Rus found the boy trembling in her arms, crying into her bosom. "It, it hurt s-so much—it hurt so bad, and, and it w-wouldn't s-stop," Magyar choked on a sob. "And I, I thought I was g-going to, going to die. I was sure I was going to die there, wallowing in pain on the forest floor!" He cried, his voice cracking and squeaky. He sounded like a girl almost. Kievan wrapped her arms around her occasional ally and ran a comforting hand through his shoulder length hair. "Hush, hush now, it's okay. You're not going to die." Kievan whispered into his ear comfortingly. Slowly, she backed herself back into her home, pulling Magyar along as well. She shut the door behind them and bolted it.

Kievan managed to detach Magyar from her chest and get him to lie down on her bed. "Just lie down and tell me what happened. Did you get in a fight? Were you attack?" Magyar shook his head and curled into a whimpering ball. "S-something…something came _out._" He confessed in a quiet moan. Kievan crouched beside the bed so she and Magyar were at eye level. She looked at the boy with confusion. "What came out?" She asked.

Magyar told his tale in a whimpers and sobs, and when he was done, Kievan was horrified and Magyar was begging for her help. Kievan agreed, and helped Magyar to his feet. Shrouding them both in thick cloaks, she had the boy guide her to the place, far, far in the north where it was blistering cold and the snow came to her and Magyar's knees. Kievan did not like to think of what Magyar must have gone through in this place only a few hours previously, before he used his powers to quickly make the journey south to her home. The strain must have been torturous.

Magyar led Kievan into a dark forest, and together, they trekked through the twisted paths made by wild animals, till they finally came where Magyar had lain in pain for almost two days previously. There was so much blood. It made Kievan wrinkle her nose and disgust, and she brought a gloved hand to her face to try and prevent it from invading her nostrils. Magyar couldn't even bear to look at it seemingly, turning his back to the scene, holding onto himself for dear life.

"Where is it?" Kievan asked, her voice muffled by her own hand.

"I wrapped it up in my cloak. By that fallen tree." He replied, gesturing with his head to the left. Kievan looked at the indicated direction and found the fallen tree easily enough, despite its being covered by snow. She approached it cautiously and searched around for the cloak Magyar spoke of. Upon not finding it immediately, she asked what color it was, to which Magyar nervously replied he couldn't remember. "How can you not remember?" Kievan asked, growing frustrated. Magyar whipped around to give her a glare. "I can hardly think right now as it is—do you really think I can remember the color of a stupid cloak!?" He shouted, making frantic hand gestures as he did before finally turning away from her again with crossed arms.

Kievan felt guilty and returned to her search sullenly. She shouldn't have snapped at him, she realized. He had been through enough already tonight. Finally she found the cloak, obscured by part of a dead bush. No wonder she hadn't been able to find it; it was white, with only a few small blood stains to make it stand out against the pure white winter snowfall.

Kievan checked the contents, and with a heavy heart, it confirmed Magyar's story. Holding the bundled up cloak to her chest, she got up from her knees and approached Magyar, who stubbornly refused to look at her now.

"What do you want to do?" Kievan asked Magyar gently. He shrugged, stepping away from her. His expression was pained. "Can't we…can't we just get rid of it? Act like it never happened." He whimpered. Kievan felt her heart ache for her friend.

"You can't just pretend, Magyar. We have to do something with it. Are you sure you wouldn't…" She trailed off. Magyar shook his head furiously. "No, no, no! I can't, Kievan Rus, I can't." Fresh tears sprung to his eyes. "I'm sorry, I really am, but I can't." Kievan nodded understandingly, but still looked down at the bundle in her arms anxiously. "Then what do you suppose we should do?" She and Magyar looked at each other with unrest.

"Scandia." Magyar suddenly spoke.

"Scandia?" Kievan Rus repeated with surprise. "That old uncle of mine?"

Magyar nodded. "H-he lives close to here. He can take him. Right?"

Kievan looked at her feet and made a sound of uncertainty. "Scandia isn't as young as he used to be, Magyar. He's getting old. Besides, he has sons of his own to take care of, and they're growing quickly from what I've heard." She said, voicing her reservations. The glimmer of hope in Magyar's eyes died, like a tiny flame under a harsh splash of cold water. Kievan felt sympathy squeeze at her heart.

"Do any humans live near here?" She asked. Magyar looked at her with surprise, then, smiling hopefully, he nodded.

"Do you think…" He trailed off, as if not wanting to ruin his luck by finishing the rest of his question. Kievan Rus nodded her head. Magyar beamed and threw his arms around her in relief.

* * *

They returned to Kievan Rus' home in the early hours of the morning, having accomplished their mission in the north. However, upon returning, they did not immediately lay down to rest as both of them hoped. First, Kievan had Magyar take a bath in the nearby river. She watched him do so from a distance, both to make sure he cleaned himself up fully and that no one with a wicked mind came along to watch him do so, as well as confirm her suspicions. Then, once they returned to her home once again, Kievan took Magyar's bloodied clothes and tossed them into the hearth to burn. They made decent kindling for their breakfast.

When all that was done, however, and their bellies were full and Magyar was dressed in some clothes Kievan had borrowed from a kind neighbor, the two nations were left in an uncomfortable silence.

"Why did this happen to me?" Magyar asked Kievan more than once as they lied in her bed together. Magyar had yet to cease his trembling in her arms, but at least his tears had finally dried…for now, at least. Kievan did her best to comfort the traumatized youth. "That stuff just…just doesn't happen." He continued quietly. "I've never heard of it happening to anyone before…but then again…" Magyar sat up in bed suddenly and looked at Kievan with horror filled eyes. "What if this happens to you, too!?" He asked, panicked.

Keivan sat up as well as Magyar's breathing suddenly became very erratic. She ran a soothing hand through his blond hair and made calming sounds. "Don't think about such things, Magyar." She said, attempting to calm him down. "B-but, but, what if—" "Don't think about that right now." Kievan said with a bit more forcefulness, cutting off Magyar's fearful rambling. "B-but, Kievan!" He persisted. "We'll worry about it later, Tarcsa." Kievan snapped, using his human name for emphasis. Magyar reeled back from her, as if he had been struck, but then nodded his head solemnly. Hesitantly, Magyar was coaxed to lie back down, and eventually, Kievan Rus managed to sooth him into slumber.

She herself however remained awake for a little while more. Magyar's words echoed within her skull, conjuring up fears she had never had before. What if what happened to Magyar really did happen to her as well? It sounded terrifying to Kievan. The prospect was something out of nightmare or demented mythology. If she hadn't seen the evidence of it with her own eyes or if it had happened to someone other than Magyar, she might have accused whoever told her of it of stealing it from Old Hellas' legends about her odd gods and unusual heroes.

But now, having seen the evidence and heard the tale from the lips of her friend, Kievan Rus was given no choice but to accept the fact that what happened to Magyar could happen just as easily to her.

She prayed it did not.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Here you go, Wednesday101, Kievan Rus as you requested. **

**Note for translation of names: **

"**Mstislava" is the feminine form of a very old Slavic name, which is a combination of "Msti" meaning vengeance and "slav" meaning fame or glory. Nicknames attached to this name are Slava or Slavko. I don't know which I'll use yet. **

**Tarcsa is a very old name of Hungarian origin meaning "little hairless". I imagine it started off as a mean nickname that Magyar eventually decided to take control of by making it his human name. Kind of like this fat kid in my grade who prefers to be called "Biggin". Once you take control of a mean nickname, it can't be used to hurt you anymore. **

**Note also that this story takes place just a short time before the rise of the Byzantine empire, during it practically, when Magyar is still just a wandering nomad and not trying to conquest Carpathian Basin and Kievan Rus is still pretty underdeveloped and not quite affiliated with Byzantine yet. They're all really still young at this point, so roughly this is pretty early in the millennium. So basically, this is more of a prelude to Kievan Rus' actual story than anything. Next chapter will jump right to when she, Magyar, and Byzantine as well are all more grown up. **

**Thank you for reading and please follow and review! **


	14. Mstislava of Kievan Rus Part 2

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 14: Mstislava of Kievan Rus Part 2

* * *

She had heard of an old nation who lived to the west. He was the father of all those young nations cropping up in the west reportedly, which surprised Kievan as she was not aware that it was even possible for one of their kind to father so many children. It must have taken its toll, however, as Kievan Rus had heard that he was now an old embittered man who had passed along the torch to his children and was simply waiting to die now. How sad a life that must be, Kievan thought. He was the last of the previous generation of their kind, all his old friends, and even his enemies, having disappeared from this world now. Like the famous Roman Empire, Byzantine's father, and even Hellas and Gaul, whom she had never met but had heard about. They were all gone, along with many others, including her adoptive uncle, Scandia.

Kievan Rus wondered what it was like to live so long alongside so many different beings and then find one day that they were all gone and you were the last remaining of them. Kievan Rus had said farewell to many humans before and had learned from a young age that it was best not to get to attached to humans outside of politics and war, but at least she had the rest of her kind to make up for the lack of human attachments. She had her friends Byzantine and Magyar, and before he passed, she had Uncle Scandia.

But it was Uncle Scandia's death that had made Kievan keenly aware of the fact that not even her fellow nations would be around forever, despite their semi-immortality. She had been with him when he finally passed. He came to visit her one last time, having left his land in the care of his sons and nephews and another little nation his successors called Finland. Scandia arrived at Kievan Rus' city dwelling unannounced, feeble and old and smiling the same way he always had. Kievan hadn't realized anything was wrong until Scandia turned down a cup of wine.

"I did not come here to drink and share stories, my treasured Mstislava." He said in an oddly soft manner for him, taking her hands in-between his calloused ones. Kievan looked at Scandia with uncertainty. "Uncle, please don't speak like that. You're scaring me. Is something wrong?" She asked, removing her hands from his. Scandia shook his head and looked over at the hearth, a faraway look in his purplish-blue eyes. Kievan Rus looked at her old caretaker with great worry. "Uncle, you're lying to me aren't you." She finally accused, standing up from her seat beside the old nation. "You know how I hatelying, so just tell me the truth! Why did you come here today?"

Scandia turned his sad eyes on her, but still smiled in that broad, boisterous way he always had. "I just wanted to see you one last time. You're the only one I haven't said goodbye to yet, you see." He explained, barking a humorless laugh. Kievan frowned deeply at him. "Are you going somewhere?" She asked quietly, sitting back down hesitantly. "You could say that. Though I don't exactly know where." Scandia replied, still smiling. It was beginning to unnerve Kievan. What was he hiding behind that smile of his, she wondered. "I would have hoped to ascend to Valhalla, but…I'm not sure I believe in that anymore." He continued, his tone becoming morose.

"But you've always been faithful to your gods and goddesses, Uncle." Kievan protested, her brows knitting together at his statement. Scandia had always spoken of his religion with utmost reverence. "What could have possibly changed?" Scandia shrugged noncommittally. "I suppose I've finally gotten to that point. I heard the same thing happened to Hellas and Aegyptus when they realized they would leave this world soon. Aegyptus lived out the rest of her days a godless woman, and when Hellas lost her faith and her status as one of us to her daughter, she threw herself off a cliff into the sea. How dramatic of her," Scandia chuckled darkly. "But I guess that's what she was going for. What better way to end a life like hers anyways?" Kievan Rus stared at Scandia with horror.

"Uncle, you can't mean…" She paused to gather her wits. "Are you saying you're going to disappear soon?" She felt like an axe had been taken to her heart when he nodded his head solemnly at her question. All the time, he kept that smile on his face. It made anger bubble at Keivan's core. "Then why are you smiling?!" She demanded, tears springing to her eyes. Scandia laughed and patted her cheek like she was a little girl again. "Because a smile hides your pain, and if no one can see your pain then those around you are happier for it and will never look down upon you either." Scandia pulled Keivan into a tight embrace. "Don't look down upon me, Mstislava." He whispered in her ear. "I want to remain big and strong and brave in your eyes. Don't remember me as a shabby, depressed old man. Promise me that." Kievan let a sob escape her lips and buried her face in his wild waves of silver hair. "I promise, Uncle Áki." She cried as she wrapped her arms tightly around him.

A few days later, Kievan awoke with a sense of dread. She could no longer sense Scandia anywhere nearby, she found, and when inspecting his room, she found nothing but the clothes he had arrived in underneath his bed sheets. There was no evidence of him having left her home in the night, or that he had been there at all, aside from the clothes. Keivan had sat by that bed for the rest of the day, crying into his old tunic.

That had been many years ago now, and Kievan Rus was now very much aware of what life and death for their kind meant. Scandia had disappeared because his children, his nephews, and the Finland boy had arrived in this world to replace him. They had been born for that purpose and no other. When Scandia's people advanced to the point they were no longer collectively his, he had become outdated and he slowly lost his powers as a nation. He aged to the point his bones were brittle and his hair was white, his inhuman strength faded with each passing day along with many of his other supernatural abilities, and finally, his body faded out of existence, dissolving into nothingness, as if he had never existed at all. The only evidence of his existence was in the relics of his people, but who knows what else could disappear with the flow of time, Kievan Rus thought grimly as she slowly stalked towards the small stone house at the end of the road.

Scandia's older brother Germania lived there, and he might just have the answers Kievan was searching for. When she came to his door, she knocked firmly on the wood twice. The door opened a moment later and a tall old man stood before her. Her had a stern expression, and held his head high and looked her straight in the eye. His hair was long and silvery, and his face was wrinkled and worn out like old leather, but his eyes were the same vibrant green as his tunic. In human years, he might have passed for sixty or so; at least twice Kievan's physical age. He was intimidating, despite his bodily appearance. Nonetheless, Kievan met his eyes confidently and kept her head held high.

"I am Kievan Rus, the state to the east, and I come here seeking your guidance, Germania." She announced with a clear, concise voice. Germania examined her a moment before stepping aside. "Come in." He said. Kievan Rus entered his home and was somewhat surprised to find it in good condition. For some reason, she had expected a hovel. His children must take good care of him in his old age, was her first thought, but then it occurred to her that the more likely scenario was that even in his old age, Germania could take care of himself just fine.

Germania sat himself down with crossed arms at a wooden table by the fireplace. He gestured for her to sit as well; Keivan did so with some delicate and subtle maneuvering. "What did you come here for, Kievan Rus?" Germania asked in an aged voice. Straight to the point, Kievan liked that. "I came here to ask you about the nature of our kind." She answered. Germania quirked one eyebrow upward. "Didn't my brother teach you anything? Or that Byzantine girl I hear is fond of you?" He spoke, his voice tinged with displeasure. Clearly he didn't want to be bothered for things his little brother ought to have done a long time ago. Kievan cleared her throat. "He explained most of our nature well enough. However, there is a matter that I am concerned about. For a long time now in fact." Germania seemed intrigued. "And what would that be?" He asked.

Kievan Rus stood then and loosened the thick, furry winter cloak she had been wearing. He dropped to the floor and Germania's eyes widened with surprise before his expression became annoyed. "I hope you aren't about to ask me where babies come from, because I have been through that far too many times now." He said gruffly. Scowling, Kievan sat down again carefully. She hated how even sitting had become a difficult task lately. She hid her discomfort under a calm mask. "In a way, yes, I am. But I have a suspicion you know of more than one way to have a baby. Ways that apply specifically to our kind." She explained, adding an edge to her tone during the last sentence. Germania seemed impressed.

"I take it a male nation wasn't involved then." He stated. Kievan nodded her head definitively. "And a human wasn't involved either, for the record." She added to avoid Germania making such an accusation, and it was the truth as well. She hadn't been with a man in over a year, and that had been a brief affair at court that she had quickly dropped after being chastised for it by her Prince. That had been too long ago to have resulted in her pregnancy. Germania held up his hands defensively however, his expression that of dull interest now. "You don't have to tell me that. I know what your circumstances are." He said. Kievan raised an eyebrow, hoping that coy expression of intrigue would hide the immense relief and hope she was feeling at the moment. She didn't want to come off too desperate or excited. "And what are they exactly?" She asked, her voice level.

Germania got up from his seat then and went over to a cupboard nearby. Kievan watched him rummage around for a moment before taking out a sheet of paper and what looked to be a stick of charcoal. He returned to his seat and slapped the paper on the table in-between them and started drawing. Kievan leaned forward with curiosity. First, he drew a circle. "This is the Earth," Germania said, and then he proceeded to draw something else next to the circle. It was a rather crude drawing of a woman; horrible, if you wanted to really critique it. "This is a female nation." Germania said. He began drawing a third drawing, this time of a man. It was just as bad as the one of the woman. "And this is a male nation." Germania said, setting down the charcoal finally and pointing at the earth. "Now, there are usually three different ways a nation can be born. First, there is how most nations come into the world: directly from the Earth, or the Mother, as she is sometimes called. This usually happens when there is no prime human woman candidate to carry the child, or if the nation existing on that land at the time is male, not female." He explained, pointing at the drawing of the man briefly. Kievan frowned with puzzlement. "Wait, Uncle Scandia once talked about this. He said that's how I came to be. But he never said anything about this…Mother." She said uncertainly.

Germania sighed deeply. "It's very hard to explain and I'd rather avoid that conversation at the moment since we have other things to discuss, but the short version is…how do I put this?...The Mother is the personification of the entire world, and the mother, or common ancestor rather, of all living things, including our kind. She comes and goes from the physical world of humans as she pleases, most of the time preferring to stay…wherever she goes when she's not on our plane of existence, and she goes by many different names and appearances as well. She is an enigma really. Even I hardly understand her." If Kievan Rus hadn't have come there for any other reason, she would have persisted in questioning what the Mother was, as she was suddenly seized by a great curiosity about this being she had never heard of before—her own mother even!—but alas, she had come here to address a more pressing and imminent matter, so she simply nodded confirmation of understanding Germania's words.

"Moving on," Germania muttered, pointing at the drawing of the woman now. "The second method is when two cultures and peoples collide, creating a new national identity slowly in the process. This happens through," Germania coughed, his cheeks turning pink. He tapped quickly back and forth between the woman and the man. Taking the hint, Kievan's cheeks heated up as well, and she nodded at his words, understanding what he was getting at. Germania seemed relieved and his blush faded away. He tapped singularly on the woman once. "The third method is immaculate conception. It is when either a female human or a female nation conceives a new nation with no help whatsoever from a male nation or even a male human. The only outside forces that can cause such an anomaly is the Mother's will and the progression of a single culture into a new national identity. Or perhaps multiple different identities. You never really know." Germania clarified in a surprisingly blasé manner. Kievan, on the other hand, felt all the fears she had been trying to suppress begin to haul themselves to the surface to torment her psyche.

Her mouth went dry and her lips formed a grim line. Her hands began to shake, so she clasped them in her lap to hide her trembling, but her shoulders were beginning to betray her as well. Kievan forced herself to maintain her posture and keep her eyes level with Germania's and her chin held high. She would keep on her regal façade no matter what. She would not show her fear. Kievan Rus refused to show weakness of any sort, especially to someone like Germania, who despite losing his status and becoming an old man, no more than a human really, still clearly remained someone to be respected.

Germania looked at her with vague concern. "Having trouble digesting this new information?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Kievan gave two harsh shakes of her head, both to clear it and answer Germania wordlessly. "I understand just fine. It's just," Her eyes went down to her stomach and she tentatively ran a hand over the curve. "This is…a martyr of my death. That's what you're telling me." It was no question, but Germania still nodded affirmative. Kievan Rus struggled a moment to keep it together, just barely managing to beat back her panic with the metaphorical stick of willpower.

"If you don't mind my asking," Germania began. "Why did you wait so long to come here?" He asked, casting his eyes down at her belly. "You seem pretty far along." He observed. Kievan Rus felt her cheeks heat up some and she shifted uncomfortably. "I was busy." She replied curtly. She expected Germania to follow up with a "With what?" but he didn't. Instead, he simply remained silent for a moment, as if just expecting she elaborate without his further input. The silence was damningly pressing. "I was dealing with some issues to the southeast with a friend of mine, Magyar. I'd been hiding my condition for some months now, putting off the issue of seeking out answers for as long as I could, but with the, the birth so close. Well, I figured I should just get this out of the way. I didn't want to go into this blindfolded by arrogance, you see. So I lied to my superiors there about returning to my Prince's side and telling him face to face how our exploits to the south were going. Instead I came here." Germania nodded slowly and stood up. "That was wise of you. You made the right choice, at least in my opinion." He said.

Germania graciously offered her something to drink before she left, which Kievan gladly agreed. Germania presented her with a mug of milk a moment later. "I milked this from my heifer Sunna just a little while ago, so don't worry about spoilage." He said, sitting back down with his own mug. "You seem well off here," Kievan commented as she took her first sip. "Of course. I'm an ex-nation, not a good-for-nothing." Germania replied roughly, seeming irritated by her words. "I apologize." Kievan Rus said genuinely. Germania made a disgruntled noise. "Don't. It's nothing." He grumbled.

After a moment passed in silence as they both enjoyed their drinks, Kievan wiped her mouth clean and spoke in cordial tones, "Since you've asked some curious questions of your own, would you mind if I ask you just one more thing, Germania?" Setting down his mug, Germania nodded. "Not at all. Go ahead." He answered. Kievan cracked a brief smile at the old man before asking, "How do you know all this?" Germania gave pause for a moment. "When you live as long as I have, you'll understand that these things simply come with age." He eventually replied. "You hear the stories, you see it happen first hand, all of it just accumulates over time along with other experiences as knowledge to pass along to the next generation so that way they don't have half as hard a time as you did finding all this out." Germania smiled thinly at her. "Just like with humans, it's all part of growing up." He said.

Kievan Rus said goodbye to Germania shortly after that and left his home not long after midday. She was incredibly thankful for his council and now felt a great respect for the man. Perhaps she would visit him again in the future, she mused as she trekked the path away from his home. But deep down inside, a voice whispered that she would most likely never see Germania ever again. He was clearly close to the end of his life and would fade away soon just as his brother and Aegyptus had or possibly even take his own life like Hellas or be killed like Rome had been years ago at his very hand. No matter which one, the outcome would be the same: he would leave their world just as all his friends and enemies eventually had.

* * *

After a brief visit with her Prince, Kievan Rus returned to the southern front to the camp at which she had left many of her superiors as well as her friend Magyar. He greeted her at the edge of camp with a wide smile. Magyar had grown in recent centuries, but not in ways he had expected, Kievan Rus knew. While he had thought his muscles would grow along with his height, and his face would finally grow a beard or even just a measly mustache, and his body would become hard and chiseled, instead Magyar's frame became curvier and his chest soft with amble breasts, and while he remained well muscled and strong, he did not develop the large, formidable frame he had so hoped to gain in adulthood. Kievan knew this gnawed at him, but he seemed to have found a concession with biding his breasts and sheered his blond locks as short as possible to supplement the few masculine features his face had. The hardening of his green eyes had also helped matters some. All in all, the ruse remained well-maintained, even with the progression of time and Magyar's age.

Magyar was in full armor upon Kievan's arrival, another key element of his façade. "You've been gone a long time, Kievan." He greeted her with a gruff voice. Kievan would never point it out to him out of consideration, but it was extremely unnatural sounding and did not help in his charade in the least. "I made a quick detour to the northwest," She explained casually. Magyar grew visibly uneasy. "Kievan, you didn't go see either of them did you? Please say no." He pleaded, his gruff voice subsiding a fraction into authentic softness. Kievan shook her head, which was a great relief to her friend. "No, I just stopped by a little seaside city to take a look at trade there. I think expanding trade further down the coast would be good economic move, especially with the troubles I've been having down here lately. What do you think?" She asked Magyar, who seemed surprised by her request for his say. He recovered quickly, however, and took on a comically businesslike demeanor and tone. "Well, you don't want to upset trade here to the south. Spices and silk coming through this way is worth a lot more than salted fish and rye crops after all and you only have so much of your own resources to trade and sell." Kievan listened to Magyar's rant on economics with amusement, watching him make animated hand gestures and a multitude of vibrant facial expressions, all the while being acutely aware of the fact she would eventually have to reveal her condition to him as well as her other friends and drag all those horrible memories of his to the surface.

* * *

**A/N: **

**So here's a quick update. The fastest one I've made in awhile actually.**

**EDIT: I made a slight timeline error that is now fixed. I said Baltia had died, but in actuality, she is still alive at this point in Kievan Rus' arc. **

**The current day and age of Kievan Rus' arc is the mid 900s. So Baltia still has a good two hundred years or so, as does Germania, but time flies for nations, so it doesn't feel like that long to Kievan Rus, especially since she's been alive for almost a millennium now. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for reading. Please follow and review! **


	15. Mstislava of Kievan Rus Part 3

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 15: Mstislava of Kievan Rus Part 3

* * *

Magyar and Byzantine refused to stop glaring at one another. The two pairs of green eyes shot daggers at one another like bows did arrows. Despite Kievan's pleadings from days before when she had invited her to this meeting, her olive-skinned friend had not done anything but scowl at Magyar since entering Kievan's home. Magyar returned the favor readily. Kievan Rus, not for the first time, mentally berated herself for not doing this separately. It was too late now to change her mind however. Both her friends now sat in her home, side-eying each other with pure abhorrence, waiting for her to explain why she had called them there today and what was so important it required their simultaneous presences.

"Could you please stop scowling now?" Kievan finally spoke up as she carefully sat down before them, setting down a tray of fresh hot drinks on the table in-between them as she did. "If you're not careful, they might get stuck that way." She warned them impatiently. Byzantine huffed indignantly but looked away from Magyar at least.

"I apologize, Kievan, but I must ask: what were you expecting? This barbarian and I can hardly be expected to breathe the same air without some sort of conflict arising eventually, especially when this one acts like a feral wild animal all the time." Byzantine tossed her head in Magyar's direction. "Look, he's practically frothing at the mouth!" She pointed out pompously. Beside her, Magyar's glare intensified ten-fold and his right hand twitched, as if to go to the blade tucked at his hip. Kievan Rus sighed exasperatedly and held out a hand to Magyar. "Hand over the sword. I won't stand for any blood shed in my house." She said sternly. Magyar balked at her while Byzantine smirked triumphantly. Kievan leveled her other friend with a cold look as well. "You as well, Byzantine. I know you always have a blade or two on your person." She warned. Byzantine looked insulted, but did as she was asked with as much dignity as possible.

Kievan took four blades in all from her friends, though to be honest she was sure they were hiding more weapons that they refused to give up under the technicality they weren't exactly blades. Tucking the blades into a basket for the time being, Kievan simply prayed the gravity of her news would manage to stifle her friends' animosity for one another some. If not, Byzantine's leaders always insisted she be escorted everywhere outside her home by a man, usually a soldier who if asked by a human would say he was her brother, so hopefully the fellow standing outside her front door—Ionnu she thought Byzantine called him—would lend his assistance in breaking up a fight.

"Another thing," Kievan began, retaking her seat at the table. "Please reframe from calling Magyar a barbarian while you sit in my home, Byzantine. He is my friend just as much as you are. Honestly, why can't you two get along? After all, it's Magyar's brother Hun who makes most of the trouble." Magyar and Byzantine scoffed in unison. "This…" Byzantine seemed to struggle with a substitute for "barbarian". "_Rogue_," She finally settled on. "is just as much to blame as that fiend of a brother of his." She snapped. Magyar barked a laugh. "Wow Princess, you can't tone down the pretentiousness for single second can you? No wonder Kievan is your only friend." He taunted. Byzantine growled with frustration and her fingers curled as she reached at Magyar with locked elbows, as if restraining herself from straggling him. "You don't even deny it!" She snarled. Magyar regarded her with an infuriating smirk.

Both nations abruptly found themselves covered with wine from Kievan's goblet.

"Sit down now or next time it'll be the fruit." Kievan warned them coolly, her face dead serious as she tossed an apple in one hand warningly. Sparing each other one last quick scowl, Byzantine sat back down and she and Magyar finally directed their attention away from each other. Byzantine smiled in relief and set down her would-be improvised weapon.

"Good, now I can finally tell you why I called you here." She began softly. Her smile fell. "I hope you take it well." Byzantine and Magyar looked at her with bewilderment and even exchanged questioning looks. "Is something wrong, Kievan?" Byzantine asked gently. Magyar's eyes softened with worry. Byzantine shook her head at first but then heaved a tired sigh. She met her friends with her strongest façade of poise, head held high, eyes meeting theirs, and announced, "I am pregnant."

For a moment, no one spoke.

Byzantine struck Magyar hard across the face.

Kievan gasped. "Sophia!" She shrieked, standing up and looking at her friend with horror as she glared at both her and Magyar. "Don't 'Sophia' me!" She shouted heatedly. "This is why you brought me here today, Mstislava? To confess some illicit affair by confronting me with the results!?" Byzantine buried her face in her hands and turned away from Kievan, as if unable to look at her. "What kind of friend does that?" She cried, sounding as if she were about to cry. Kievan and Magyar looked at each other with mortification as Magyar cradled an injured cheek. "Byzantine—Sophia, let me explain!" Kievan pleaded. Byzantine looked at her with aghast, tears brimming in her eyes all the while.

"I don't need your excuses." She seethed. "You know, it's one thing to be friends with someone your best friend's enemy, it's another to have a romance with them, and it's certainly made all the more horrible when your friend doesn't inform you of it until she's about ready to deliver any day." Byzantine wiped away a stray tear, refusing to look at Kievan or Magyar. "I _knew _you were getting bigger. I _knew _it! But I told myself that you couldn't be pregnant, because you'd tell me if you were. Apparently I was wrong!" Byzantine made towards the door.

"Sophia, wait!" Kievan called after her. Byzantine didn't even flinch. "Sophia," She tried again. No response whatsoever. Hastily, Kievan gave Magyar an apologetic look before calling, "Magyar had nothing to do with it—no man did!" Byzantine staggered mid-step just inches from the door and turned on her heel with a stunned face. Magyar looked at her with wholehearted terror.

Almost timidly, Byzantine returned to her seat at the table beside a trembling Magyar, who kept his eyes trained on his lap. "Is that," She swallowed. "Is that true?" Kievan nodded solemnly. "It is, and I'm sorry for not telling you both sooner, but it took time for me to come to terms with my condition myself and even after I did, I didn't want to confront it head on right away. It was only a few weeks ago that I finally willed myself to go to the former nation of Germania and seek his advice." She explained calmly, though she cast Magyar more than a few concerned looks.

"What did he tell you?" Magyar asked in a small voice.

Kievan took a deep breath and related the information Germania had given her, leaving out the bit about the Mother, as she felt it was a useless fact at the moment. When she was finished, Magyar's face had gone sickly pale. "No." He didn't even bother to disguise his real voice as he breathed it. Byzantine looked at him with confusion briefly before turning back to Kievan with anxiousness. "This is good." She said shakily. "Martyr or not, if all that Germania said is true, which I don't doubt since from what I recall from my childhood he's nothing if not brutally honest, then there are hundreds of years between the births of our successors and our own deaths."

"Hundreds of years." Magyar repeated numbly before standing.

"I need…I need to go." He muttered, heading towards the door.

Byzantine looked appalled by his actions. "You oaf, where do you think you're going? Our friend needs us." She called after him, even standing to stop him. Kievan reached across the table and stopped her, much to her surprise. Kievan shook her head. "Leave him. He needs time." She said. Byzantine visibly didn't seem to fully comprehend, but she nodded and let Magyar leave without incident.

When he was gone, she spoke again. "My mother left me many records before she died about our kind; during her lifetime she devoted many years to gathering information about us. Not all of them have survived and I have never quite gotten around to reading them all either, but I'm sure if you and I dug through them, we'd find even more information on your condition. I keep them in Constantinople; we should leave for there in the morning." She suggested. Kievan ran a hand thoughtfully over her full belly, thinking hard on her friend's words. Did she really even want to know more about her condition, she asked herself. No. Not really. But looking into Byzantine's hopeful eyes, Kievan could see she only wanted to help, and Kievan did not want to deny her friend that.

But then there was Magyar…

"On one condition," She answered. "We bring Magyar along."

* * *

The next morning, Kievan Rus, Byzantine, and her escort Ionnu ventured out in search of Magyar, who Kievan could sense hadn't gone far since his exit last night. Kievan hoped her friend had managed to find shelter somewhere in the night as well as decent meal. She felt almost equally bad for Ionnu, who she had forgotten to invite inside for dinner last night and who had slept on her door step of all places. Kievan was too embarrassed to admit she had completely forgotten his very existence until this morning when she and Byzantine stepped outside to find him still dozing outside.

Byzantine had awoken him with a few gentle nudges and Kievan had given him bread and wine to make up for the previous night. Amazingly, Ionnu seemed more embarrassed than Kievan Rus rather than angry with her. The young soldier had flushed bright red when his brown eyes had opened and he had found Kievan and Byzantine looking down at him. He had even apologized for falling asleep, as if believing perhaps he should have woken earlier or even stayed up all night guarding the door for some reason. Kievan found it a bit odd honestly; none of Byzantine's previous escorts had ever acted in such a way before.

When Kievan discreetly questioned Byzantine about it while pouring Ionnu a cup of wine and grabbing him a small loaf of bread while he patiently waited outside, Byzantine explained he was green. "He's only sixteen. To be frank, I don't know exactly how someone so fresh ended up with his job even. Usually my leaders give me seasoned men. If I had to guess, I'd say he's a distant relative of my Emperor, or maybe even some bastard of his by some lowly noble or commoner; either way, I'd wager he was given the job under the pretext it'd be easy as well as to keep him out of sight as much as possible. What better way to do that than assign him as the escort to someone who isn't even supposed to exist?" Byzantine explained casually. Kievan was taken aback by her friend's explanation.

"Do you truly think him some royal bastard?" She whispered.

Byzantine glanced towards the door, outside which stood Ionnu, most likely still awaiting his breakfast. "He has the look." Was all she said, and then she was out the door, off to deliver Ionnu his morning bread. Keivan followed soon after with his wine.

Currently, Kievan carried bread and wine for Magyar as well. He was surely very hungry by now, though their kind didn't necessarily have to eat to survive. It was just more comfortable if they did eat on a regular basis and it staved off suspicion by humans as well. Kievan remembered a fairly nasty incident in her brief childhood where she had forgone food for several days in an act of rebellion against the human caregivers Scandia had left her with. The humans at first were very fretful and worried about her wellbeing, but after the first week, they grew wary of her and began to look at her with fear in their eyes. Midway through the second week, one of them attempted to force feed her in desperate attempt to put things back to normal. It was in the struggle that Kievan fell, her head hitting off the corner of a table, leaving the wood stained with blood. She remembered the humans screaming and panicking and running about. All of that ceased when she stood from the floor several minutes later, fully healed except for a bit of wooziness. Kievan didn't like to think about what happened afterwards.

"How do you know where he is?" Ionnu asked curiously as they walked through the woods, him trailing after Kievan and Byzantine who knew very well where they were heading. "It's one of those powers of ours, Ionnu. Like that power to travel very quickly across land I explained to you. Remember?" Byzantine explained over her shoulder. Ionnu's brown eyes went wide, but he nodded. Kievan took notice of how he chewed on his bottom lip. Byzantine did as well. "What is it, Ionnu?" She asked.

"Well…" He paused uncertainly, his tan cheeks reddening. "I was just wondering why exactly you would want to bring Magyar to Constantinople, or rather, why you think he'd want to go at all."

Byzantine sent a look to Kievan Rus that clearly read as a questioning one. She would have liked to know as well.

"Not to reveal too much without Magyar's consent," Kievan began. "But I feel he would take just as much interest in Byzantine's mother's records as I would. And I'm not completely sure he'll agree to come along, but I won't leave without asking him first, or at least checking up on him after last night." She explained. Ionnu seemed to respect that answer while Byzantine raised a brown eyebrow. "What would Magyar want to do with my mother's records? A barbari—I mean, a rough-edged nomad like him doesn't seem the type to take especial philosophical or scientific interest in our kind." She posed. Kievan reframed from scowling at Byzantine.

How could someone so intelligent be so short-sighted, she wondered.

"No offense, Byzantine, but I know Magyar better than you do." She answered with finality. Byzantine politely left the subject alone afterwards, though she kept tossing her curious gazes until they found Magyar sleeping high up in a tree.

"How did he even manage to get up there in that armor?" Kievan wondered aloud, gazing upwards at her friend's sleeping form, sprawled out on a high, thick branch. It hurt her neck some.

"How does he manage to do anything when that scrawny body of his?" Byzantine remarked. "Let's just hurry and wake him up. I would like to get on the road before midday, that way we can make it to the nearest city and procure proper transport to the sea for someone in your condition before the day is out. If we keep a decent schedule, we could be in Constantinople within a few weeks with plenty of time to spare before your due date."

Kievan looked at her friend with surprise. "You already have it that thought out?"

Byzantine nodded and looked at her as if was one of the simplest facts in the world. "I always have a plan, Kievan, you should know that."

"And I bet if you don't you're reduced to a complete and utter mess." Came a yawn from above. They all looked up to see Magyar peering down at them tiredly. "Morning, Kievan." He called.

Byzantine scowled up at the blond and opened her mouth as if to say something, but Kievan halted her with hand on her shoulder. "Good morning, Magyar." She called up. "Care to come down and have a bite to eat?" She asked, holding up his bread and a flagon of wine. Magyar's eyes lit up and he leapt from the tree with a broad grin.

"You are a saint, Slavko." He said, taking the bread and wine gratefully and dropping onto crossed legs on the ground. He devoured his bread quickly and sipped at the wine to wash it down. He looked up at them with serious eyes when he was finished. "I know you came out here to do more than feed me. What is it?" He asked in his usual disguised voice.

"We're going to Constantinople to look at my mother's records on nations. As a personal favor to Kievan Rus, I am inviting you along." Byzantine explained coolly.

Magyar regarded her dubiously and cast Kievan a questioning glance. She nodded her head and his expression became pinched.

"Why would I want to come to your stupid capitol where everyone's as conceited and uptight as you?" He grumbled. Byzantine turned to Kievan Rus with a hard look. Kievan rolled her eyes and shooed her away a few feet, which she did reluctantly so. Kievan crouched down in front of Magyar.

She cupped his face gently. "Tarcsa," She whispered. "You know why." She ran a thumb across his right cheekbone, where there might have been a bruise from the blow Byzantine had dealt him last night if not for their kind's unnatural healing abilities. He still flinched. "I…" He started shakily. Kievan hushed him with a finger to his lips. "Think of those little boys in the north." She spoke softly. Magyar swallowed hard, his green eyes wide brimming with dread. "Don't you want answers to all your questions?" She asked him. Tentatively, Magyar nodded.

* * *

The voyage across the Black Sea to the ports Constantinople was tremulous, and not due to any bad weather. The winds and tides were actually quite fair, but the environment was a breeding ground for conflict and discomfort, Kievan quickly came to realize. Unlike their days on the road, journeying on horseback and by wagon to a port city to charter a ship, the days on the ship were far from peaceful for anyone in their traveling party.

On the road, Magyar had been able to ride ahead when he and Byzantine came to blows and work out his frustrations with the help of his favorite pastime. Now on the small ship, there was little way of escaping Byzantine for any length of time and there was nothing to occupy his time or his energy but to pace usually on the deck or climb the rigging, which didn't satisfy him nearly as much as riding a lively stallion on the open road. Byzantine suffered a similar problem. Not only did she resent the lack of space just as much as Magyar, but a mind such as hers required almost constant stimulation. Eventually, however, she fell into the clutches of boredom as well, having exhausted every possible outlet to entertain herself, from what few books were aboard the ship to small talk with the sailors aboard. She spent the latter half of voyage fidgeting through tedium as a result.

Kievan found herself bedridden from the first day of the voyage onwards. Despite having enjoyed the road, where she had ridden a horse alongside her friends and Ionnu happily for a time before enjoying the luxury of a furnished wagon the rest of the journey to the port town, it caught up to her on the ship in the form of aches and pains that would not subside and kept Kievan off her feet except for brief trips to the chamber pot or up topside to get some fresh air. She regretted this when the smells made her empty the contents of her stomach overboard. The swaying of the ship didn't help matters. Ionnu tried to be of help, kindly bringing her her meals time to time, chatting with her at her bedside sometimes, and helping her on her little extrusions to the deck, but Kievan still felt annoyed at feeling so helpless all of sudden. She tried not to show it, for dignity's sake.

Even Ionnu suffered abroad _The Boreas_. The boy had a shy nature about him that did not endear him to other men and he found himself the butt of many jokes by the sailors thanks to his boyishness and lowly status in the military hierarchy as well. As a result, Ionnu seemed to take refuge in sticking close to either her or Byzantine as an excuse to not be around the sailors, or Magyar for that matter, who Kievan knew he didn't trust.

When Byzantine's capitol came into view over the horizon one morning, Kievan had to bite her tongue to keep from cheering with relief, which Magyar did very openly on and off the ship. He didn't even wait for the ship to dock. As soon as they were within the harbor, Kievan watched her friend hop overboard and swim towards dry-land, Byzantine screaming after him in a most unlady-like manner for ruining the clothes she had graciously bought him to help him fit in while in her fair land. Kievan chuckled at the display along with Ionnu.

_The Boreas _docked soon after and Byzantine was the first off the boat, taking Magyar by the ear when she reached him.

"Why you little-I spent a lot of money on those clothes and look what you've done to them!" She growled. Magyar scoffed and shoved her away from him.

"Not my fault your harbors are filthy."

"My harbors are only filthy because I have a decent sewage system."

"If it's so decent by does it smell so bad, hm?"

Byzantine looked about ready to throttle Magyar when Kievan stepped in-between them, giving them both stern looks that quieted them instantly.

"Perhaps Ionnu and I should walk in-between you two on the way to Byzantine's home." She suggested.

Byzantine's abode in Constantinople thankfully was not far from the harbor; it was a large apartment of sorts near the very top of a large stone building over looking the entrance to the strait, a truly beautiful sight. Byzantine's servants had kept the home in good condition since their mistress had been away and greeted her with bowed heads as their party entered.

"Welcome home, Lady Sophia." They greeted their mistress in harmony. Byzantine greeted them with smiles and hugs. "Valerius, Zeno, Maxima, Petrus, Olympia; oh, how I've missed you all!" While Kievan and Ionnu looked on at the displays of affection with smiles, Magyar looked on as if witnessing sacrilege. Kievan chuckled and ruffled her shorter friend's blond locks. "Did you really believe her to be a bloodless monster?" She teased and Magyar turned pink before stubbornly averting his gaze to a mosaic on the entry hall wall.

Byzantine put up Kievan Rus in the guest chamber right next to hers, while Magyar bunked with Ionnu in his chambers across the hall. Byzantine assured Kievan however that the chambers were adequate for two and that she by no means meant it as a slight. She simply didn't have much space to spare since all her servants lived with her. Doubtful of her friend's word, as she had been lied to by Byzantine in the past and had no doubt in would happen in the future as well, Kievan went to Ionnu's room to see for herself.

She slipped inside to find Magyar and Ionnu sitting on the floor of the room, chatting idly. Kievan was relieved to find the room was indeed spacious, even if it was lacking a second bed for Magyar, who had a pallet already made up for him on the floor near Ionnu's bed. The boys looked up at her with broad smiles.

"Kievan, come hear this story Ionnu was telling me about this prank he pulled on his elder brother." Magyar beckoned her forward but Kievan shook her head, to his disappointment. "I just came in to check up on you. Are you comfortable?" She asked. Magyar nodded his head. "But the more important question is: are you comfortable, Kievan? I know you had a rough time on the ship." Magyar sent her a sympathetic look. Kievan cringed internally, remembering her aching back and feet. Magyar and Byzantine and even Ionnu had had to rub her sore areas to relieve her pain. Kievan hoped that the soreness would subside some now that her feet were firmly on dry land. But the dull throb she was beginning to feel in her ankles warned her otherwise.

"I'm fine," She lied to Magyar. "I'm going to go back to my room and lay down for a bit though. Sleeping without rocking back and forth or hearing creaking wood would be a treat right now." She sighed. "Have fun, boys."

"Sleep right." Magyar called.

"Sweet dreams." Ionnu wished her on her way out.

When Kievan Rus returned to her chamber, however, she found herself paling considerably at the sight of several towering stacks of scrolls, books, and even stone tablets strewn across nearly every surface in his her room. Standing in the midst of it all was a smiling Byzantine.

"Let's get to work, shall we?"

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. **

***Hun being a sibling of Magyar is canon, as stated in a brief profile of Magyar back from 2008. I just wanted to clarify that that bit is not some headcanon of mine or a piece of fanon. **

***To clarify physical ages—Kievan Rus: 25-ish; Magyar: 18; Byzantine: 23-25**

***To remind you, Slavko is a real diminutive of the name Mstislava. Not some gratuitous weeaboo amalgamation of "Slav" and "Ko", a common ending for Japanese girl names that frequently gets added to the ends of the Nyotalia nations' names. Ex. Ameriko. **

**Again, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Thank you for reading. Please follow and/or review! **


	16. Mstislava of Kievan Rus Part 4

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 16: Mstislava of Kievan Rus Part 4

* * *

The sheer number of records Hellas left behind was unholy, Kievan thought more and more often as her eyes grew heavier. She didn't know where the hours had gone, because surely she and her friend would have made a larger dent in Hellas' mountain of work than what they had if they had been awake so long. Unfortunately, Byzantine informed her that there was even more than where this came from. If she hadn't been so exhausted, Kievan might have prayed to the lord to give her the strength for several more nights and days of this tiring reading, but she was having enough trouble keeping her eyes open long enough to read a single sentence, so she simply nodded at Byzantine's words.

Kievan Rus and Byzantine shifted through Hellas' documents late into the night by candlelight until said candles finally burned out and they fell asleep on Kievan Rus' bed, covered more in paper than blankets. They awoke in the morning to find Magyar sitting at the foot of the bed, reading—or rather attempting to read one of the scrolls by the looks of his scrunched up nose. Byzantine sprang at him with abrupt energy and snatched the document out of his hands. Magyar scowled at her as she rolled the scroll back up.

"I know you can't read my language, Barbarian. Don't even pretend to be that intelligent." She huffed, putting the scroll back in the "Already Read" pile at the foot of the bed next to Magyar. Kievan gave her friend a kick in the side and a glare. Byzantine flinched and sent her an apologetic look. "Sorry, sorry, I forgot that word is off limits." She apologized. Kievan rolled her eyes and then closed them, intent on going back to sleep. If Byzantine was going to pick a fight with Magyar or vise-versa, let it be while she's off her own little cloud in the sky, surrounded by gorgeous half-naked men and women with wings who catered to every whim and necessity, like foot rubs and feeding her grapes. A smile worked its way onto Kievan's lips.

She heard the crinkle of paper and Byzantine exhale noisily. "Be gentle with it if you want to read it so badly." She heard her warn Magyar. Magyar didn't reply in any way, shape, or form. The only sound he was responsible for in the next minute was the sound of the scroll being unrolled once again.

"I know plenty about your language, you know. How else do you think I was able to talk to Ionnu and those sailors on the way here?" Magyar informed her defensively. "I can speak it just fine and even read it. It's just…this scroll has so many words in it I don't recognize. Like this one and this one." Kievan heard tapping against paper. "What does it mean? I've never heard or seen these words before." He sounded honestly confused. There was more paper crinkling and Byzantine gave a hum of thought.

"I'm not surprised. These words don't come up in day-to-day conversation or trade discussions typically. But it's quite simple really," Byzantine said. "This scroll discusses the sexuality of our kind. My mother wrote extensively on the subject. This scroll alone is just on orientation." She explained.

"Orientation?" Magyar repeated, confusion plain in his voice.

"What we like, basically. Who or what we want to have sex with if you want to be more precise."

Kievan felt herself blush at Byzantine's words. What a vulgar conversation to have, she thought. What happened in the bedroom should stay in the bedroom, not be studied like some exotic plant. She didn't have to open her eyes to know Magyar was blushing as well and looking at Byzantine with bewilderment. Byzantine in all likelihood didn't care. While she was nothing if not insightful and passionate when it came to the arts, she was a very matter-of-fact person when it came to science and mathematics and rarely ever let the discomfort of others dissuade her from continuing her lectures. Kievan had endured enough last night and further in the past to know that fact very, _very_ well.

This would be good for him though, Kievan told herself. She had brought him to Constantinople to learn after all. Let this be his first lesson.

"And…what does it say?" Magyar asked hesitantly.

"According to my mother's research, all of us like everything." Byzantine answered simply.

"_Everything_? Is that even possible?...Is that even right?" Magyar asked, flabbergasted.

Byzantine laughed, but not in a smug way. More fondly amused.

"Yes, it is very possible, even for humans, though my religion nowadays would love to keep that under wraps. Don't get me wrong, I love my faith and will never give it up, but as a nation, I sometimes see more clearly than the average human and simply cannot deny certain things as true. The same goes for all of our kind. Including you, Magyar. Surely you've experienced it before."

"Well, I…I, uh…"

"How cute! You've let your people's beliefs cloud your point of view. To be honest, though, I'm not shocked. You and your brother probably left your parent nation when you were too young to be taught about all these complicated things." Kievan remembered first meeting Magyar not long after he came west from his mountainous birthplace when she had been caught between girlhood and womanhood and he had been a small child still. He had been very cute back then with his childish antics. He was the type of child who didn't pick flowers so much as uproot them and give them to you, clumps of dirt and all.

"My only parent is the land actually. Me and my brother raised ourselves." Magyar corrected Byzantine. Kievan was relieved he didn't take Byzantine's words as condescending—she did not want to see the yam sack fight from two summers ago repeated with scrolls and pillows. Though feather pillows and paper would probably leave far less bruises now that she thought about it.

Kievan shook the thoughts away; her friends fighting with each other was terrible no matter how little damage was done, she reminded herself.

_Still_, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind giddily, it would be rather amusing.

For a fraction of a second, Kievan smiled at the thought of feathers raining down in a gentle flurry in her bedchamber, mingling in the air with her laughter and that of her friends.

She shooed that thought away before it could proliferate.

"Ah, well that explains many things." Byzantine commented.

"Many things?" Magyar repeated. Kievan would have guessed his blond brows either knitted together in confusion or one of them rose skeptically. She couldn't decide which was more characteristic.

"Never mind, those things don't matter at the moment. What does is that you need a proper education on this subject. We wouldn't want you going around clueless about these things—Jesus Christ, what if you had a child someday? That poor thing might end up even more confused than you!" Byzantine laughed.

Magyar went very quiet and if Byzantine noticed, she didn't take verbal note of it. Instead, she continued on with her impromptu lesson on sexuality.

"To clarify your original questions, it's possible, and not only that, it's completely okay. We're born that way and nothing can really change it. It's like your hair color. Sure, you could dye it with oils and such, but underneath that dark veneer is your real hair color and nothing can change it for real."

"What about age? Hair color changes with age." Magyar pointed out.

"Stop poking holes in my analogy, I know you know I didn't mean it so literally." Byzantine sighed, clearly not appreciating Magyar's lack of cooperation. Magyar chuckled and Kievan could practically hear Byzantine roll her eyes exasperatedly. "But to spell things out for you, unlike hair color, orientation doesn't change with age. It simply cannot be changed. Ever." Byzantine continued.

"I don't know," Magyar spoke uncertainly. "It's just…so odd sounding."

"Any odder than human embodiments of cultural identities and government systems who possess near immortality and other inhuman abilities?" Byzantine asked dryly. Kievan had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

"Oh…well…I suppose not…You must be right then, Byzantine." Magyar barked a laugh. "Wow, that's something I never thought I'd ever say! Don't tell Hun—he might disown me!"

"Don't worry. You're secret's safe with me." Byzantine promised playfully. She joined Magyar as he laughed some more. Kievan Rus was happy to hear them getting along.

However, their laughter soon died down and the air became heavy.

"So…" Magyar began shyly. "It's okay for me to like both boys and girls?"

"Yes. It is perfectly okay, Magyar." Byzantine answered in the most sincere and kind voice Kievan had ever heard her speak to the boy with.

"So it's alright that I…" Magyar trailed off. Byzantine gasped softly.

"Do you have feelings for someone, Magyar?" She asked excitedly. Kievan could hear her grin, and to be perfectly honest, she had to suppress one of her own. Her child seemed excited as well, for Kievan felt it give a kick inside her womb. Kievan Rus lost the battle against her smile. Magyar liked someone—as in_ liked _liked them!

"No! I mean, maybe…" Magyar was flustered. Kievan could hear it. She could just imagine the furious red color of his cheeks as Byzantine grinned excitedly at him.

"Who? Come on, tell me." Byzantine pressed.

"Why should I tell you? You're not my friend just because you gave me a life lesson." Magyar protested. Byzantine made a sound of indignation.

"You ungrateful—" Byzantine growled lowly. "Fine, if you won't tell me than you can just leave now." She huffed. "Kievan Rus and I will see you at breakfast." She added in her most high and noble voice to make up for her unladylike snarl.

"Fine, I didn't want to hang around you anyways! I'll go talk to Ionnu instead!"

Kievan heard Magyar stomp away and the doors of the chambers slammed closed. With a disappointed sigh at how quickly things had turned for the worse, Kievan sat up on her elbows and opened her eyes.

"You didn't have to jump on him like some rabid dog." She admonished Byzantine.

Byzantine didn't look at her. She instead focused her gaze on the doors to the chamber with sad golden brown eyes. "The poor little fool," Kievan heard her mutter as she stood from the bed. She looked at her friend with confusion.

"What do you mean?" She asked. Byzantine shook her head as she rounded the bed to help Kievan up. "Nothing that shouldn't be obvious already." Kievan paused and stared at her friend. Byzantine gave her a thin smile with eyes that communicated everything Kievan needed to know. It wasn't surprising really. She should have seen it coming; Byzantine was intelligent and had spent weeks in close company with Magyar. What she hadn't noticed in years past during brief encounters was sure to become clear at some point. Kievan stood up fully from her bed with Byzantine's help and shuffled over to her yet to be unpacked luggage in the corner of the chambers.

"You understand my reasons, yes?" She asked her friend as she opened a trunk and began her search for fresh clothes for that day.

"Of course. It's very kind of you to play along to...his act to make him feel good about himself." Byzantine answered. "You are a good friend, Kievan."

"That's all I've ever tried to be." She replied quietly.

Neither of them said anything for some time and Kievan heard Byzantine walk over to the chamber doors. One of them opened with a loud, whiny creak.

"Excuse me, I must go change as well; it would not do for me to wear the same clothes two days in a row in my own capitol. I'll send Olympia to help you dress, my friend." Byzantine finally said.

"Thank you, Byzantine, I'll see you at the breakfast table." Kievan replied softly.

"At the breakfast table." Byzantine repeated and then the door closed behind her.

The week that followed was spent day in and day out scouring through records left behind by Byzantine's mother in Kievan Rus' bed chambers. Each day, a pile or two if they were lucky would be put into the "Already Read" pile at the foot of the bed. Kievan, Byzantine, and Magyar worked tirelessly to read each word of each sentence of each paragraph of each length of ancient paper left behind by Hellas. When one of them finished reading something, they'd announce to the other two what they had read about so nothing was overlooked by or left unknown to anyone. Sometimes, they'd learn something new—like how to calculate exactly how long an injury would take to heal based on severity, the state of their land, and other factors—while most of the time, what they found were things they had learned on their own long ago or simple elaborations on what they had learned that weren't really needed if you thought about it.

Ionnu sat at a stool next to the door. He answered it when someone knocked and he often played the part of the messenger. He'd relay information to them as needed, bring them their lunches from the door, and alerted them when a servant needed to enter to clean up a bit. He helped them read through the documents at first, but after a few days, it was clear his mind was a bit too boggled by what he was reading to be much help to them, so Byzantine regulated him back to simply watching the door, where he spent most of his day and night fighting boredom and sleeping.

Kievan steadily grew more anxious as the week progressed. She had come to Constantinople to learn more about her condition to help herself and to possibly help Magyar understand himself more and put both their fears to rest. However, as the days passed and they failed to learn more, Kievan began to worry that perhaps not even Hellas, who had been renowned for her wisdom, had found the cure in her lifetime to easing an expectant mother's worries.

Seven days after their arrival in Constantinople, they ran out of records in Kievan's bedchamber and Kievan Rus' appointment with Byzantine's private physician arrived.

"Are you certain you don't want me to come along?" Kievan asked Byzantine for the third time as she took Ionnu's arm outside the entrance to Byzantine's apartment complex. Byzantine smiled reassuringly as she took her servant Zeno's arm. "You have an appointment with the physician today. That far outweighs my trip my mother's vault in importance." She said. Kievan kept a mask of regal calm as she nodded, but still she felt ill at ease. She would have liked to have one of her friends with her to see this physician, but Byzantine was off to procure more records from the vault she had hidden them in inside the royal palace, and Magyar had decided to stay in. Kievan knew he was distrustful of Byzantine's capitol, so she didn't press the issue with him.

"You should not have to worry about telling any lies to this man." Byzantine replied her in a hushed voice, careful of nosey neighbors who spent their day sitting on the stoop, talking and basking in the sun shining on the bay. "He comes from a long line of servants." She explained, and that was all the information Kievan Rus needed to understand.

There was no way of knowing where or when the practice started, but it had been around long before either Byzantine or Kievan Rus were born, and before Rome and even Hellas' time as well most likely. Kievan personally had always thought that a human started the tradition of tying human families to the nations as their servants. It seemed like something a ruler might do to insure his nation was well taken care of for generations to come. She wondered what it had been like for those first men and women of those families to learn of the existence of her kind and then become their servants throughout the rest of their lives, their children and later grandchildren taking their place when they were gone. It must have been a frightening experience in the beginning, but after awhile, Kievan knew that most families forgot what it was like to be blissfully unaware and free.

She knew because she had witnessed it before in her own servants back home. It was pathetic.

Byzantine and Zeno went one direction and Kievan and Ionnu went the other, promising to see each other at lunch.

"So, you've been to this physician before? You know the way?" Kievan checked, not wanting to get lost in this huge metropolis. She had been here only once before and that had been years and years ago when it had been…smaller, if you could call Constantinople small at any point in its existence. More accurately, it had been less big.

"Oh yes, when I became Lady Byzantine's servant, the Emperor and her last escort had me memorize the routes to all the shops and people's homes she visits regularly, her favorite bathhouses and theaters, and other establishments she sometimes offers her patronage to." Ionnu replied. He laughed. "It's a good thing too! I was raised in the country side. I had never been in a city before in my life until one day, some government official types came to my home and told me my father had arranged a job for me. Imagine my surprise, seeing as how I had never met my father before."

Kievan looked at the young man with surprise. "You seem rather…good-natured about that fact."

Ionnu smiled thinly at her. "Should I be bitter instead? I'm sorry but it seems like a lot of work to wallow in self-pity all the time like I've seen other bastards do and it be perfectly honest, I'm pretty lazy."

"Hm, this might be the perfect job for you then. All you have to do is walk with Byzantine when she goes outside so she doesn't get in trouble." Kievan said laughingly.

Ionnu chuckled. "Yeah, and it also comes with free travel. It was nice to see lands beyond the empire. Your homeland was beautiful, Lady Kievan." He added with a grin.

Kievan smiled at the boy. "Thank you for the compliment, Ionnu, but please call me Mstislava when we're out and about. Calling me by my true name might draw attention. Even as a pet name of sorts, Kievan Rus would stick out and garner too many second glances." She warned him gently.

"Oh," Ionnu flushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to endanger your secret, My Lady."

"It's okay. Just be careful. Oh, is that it over there?" Kievan asked, pointing at the building with the sign reading, 'Pholos, Physician'.

"Yes, it is." Ionnu replied. They crossed the busy street and hurried inside through the front door. A man standing at a water basin washing his hands looked up at their arrival. He quickly dried his hands and approached them with a smile and a quick bow.

"Good morning, you must be Kievan Rus." He greeted her.

"And you must be Pholos."

"That is my family name. My name is actually Octavian. You may use whichever one you prefer, My Lady." He said. "Now please, sit." He gestured to a cot in the back of the room. Kievan sat down and Pholos took a seat at a nearby stool. Ionnu idled by the door awkwardly. Poor boy, Kievan thought.

Pholos was quick about his examination. Her asked her questions, did some measurements, and even did her the favor of estimating her age at twenty five. When he was finished, he warned her she was due to give birth within two weeks. Apparently she was father along than she initially thought, which had been embarrassing because Pholos had given her a judgmental look that said, 'You're a woman, you should know these things.' Well _excuse_ me, Pholos, Kievan thought as she and Ionnu walked back to Byzantine's apartment, but I've never had a baby before, what do you expect? For me to just instinctively know these things because my anatomy was equipped to reproduce life? Well guess what, Pholos, that old hackneyed idea was pure rubbish.

"My Lady," Ionnu's uncertain voice cut in. "You've been rather quiet and…"

"And?" Kievan inquired at his nervous trailing off.

"You're giving off an ominous aura. Haven't you noticed that people are actively avoiding getting in our way. The crowds are parting like the Red Sea." Ionnu pointed out.

Kievan laughed lightly, forgetting her previous irritation. "Ionnu, you exaggerate." She said.

"No, no I do not. If anything I am understating things—there is a three cart pileup behind us from where a fishmonger's cart collided with a chicken cart trying to avoid us. The passion fruit vendor's cart was a casualty." Ionnu deadpanned.

Kievan looked over her shoulder and promptly went pale. She grabbed Ionnu's forearm and started pushing him to walk faster. "Keep walking. Keeping walking and do not acknowledge it." She whispered harshly.

"Bu—"

"Do not acknowledge it!"

"Okay." Ionnu peeped and he noticeably increased his pace.

They rounded the next corner even though it was the wrong direction and then they took another turn down an alley way. Kievan kept a keen eye on the windows above. She did not want to fall victim to the contents of someone's chamber pot. Thankfully, they made it through the alley with only their shoes soiled and found themselves in a market square, where artisans and merchants were selling their services and wares and a few street performers were entertaining small crowds for some coin.

Kievan approached a stand selling fruit and asked the purveyor for a half pound of apples and a jug of water if he had any. The hairy man obliged and thanked her for her patronage.

"Why did you get those? We'll be having lunch soon." Ionnu said as the crossed the square and entered another alley.

"I'm hungry now." Kievan answered as she bit into an apple. Breaking the skin was like piercing a sack of water. The apple of incredibly juicy and Kievan let out a satisfied hum. She handed an apple to Ionnu. "Try these. They're so juicy!" She said cheerily.

"Oh, thank you, My Lady." Ionnu said, his cheeks turning pink. "You're too kind."

Kievan smiled at the young man. "There is no such thing as too kind, Ionnu. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't have enough kindness in them."

Ionnu looked awed. "That's a rather provocative thought, My Lady."

Kievan laughed into the back of her hand. "Thank you. Sophia told me it a long time ago." She replied. Ionnu blinked at her but then smiled broadly.

"You and Lady Byz—I mean Sophia are very close. She has a lot of influence on you, I can tell."

Kievan smiled softly to herself, remembering the countless times she and her old friend had spent hours just talking to each other. Byzantine always had something to show or teach her and Kievan was grateful for that. It was nice to have someone who wanted to share so much with her. "Yes, we've been friends for a long time. We've had our rough patches, but in the end she is someone I truly believe has become a piece of me. When people look back on me a thousand years from now, they'll associate me with her and recognize our close knit bond. The same goes for Sophia."

Ionnu smiled sadly at her before his eyes drifted to his feet. "I wish I had that sort of bond with someone. But with my current position, like all servants to your kind, my existence will never be known and I'll never appear in the history books."

Kievan laid a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "The same goes for my kind. People will remember what we represented, but they'll never know who we were as people or what we did of our own free will. We're in this boat together, me and you."

"It's still sad, how we're going to be forgotten someday. The men who rule the peoples and lands of the world do everything in their power to ensure all traces of us are destroyed and our time on this planet is struck from the records. It'll be like we never existed at all." Ionnu lamented.

"Not exactly." He looked at her with curiosity. Kievan ran a hand over the swell of her stomach and continued, "There's always someone left behind to remember us. Our friends, our family, our children. Those are things that not even our rulers can erase. As long as we leave a piece of ourselves with someone close to our hearts, we can not be completely forgotten."

Ionnu's eyes softened. "I guess that's true," He looked off in the distance. He pointed upwards at a tall building down the street. "Hey, look there's the apartment complex. Come on, let's hurry up before that friend of yours wolfs down our portions of lunch."

He took her hand and together they jogged down the street.

* * *

Kievan rolled up the scroll in her lap and tossed it over to the other end of the table.

"Anything?" Byzantine asked listlessly from the other side of her desk.

"Nothing that I didn't already know." Kievan answered monotonously, unrolling another scroll. "Just some figures on super strength's relation to military strength."

On the floor next to the desk, Magyar groaned. "This is _so_ boring." He grumbled into the book he had his face buried in. "Can we just give up now?" He asked, his voice beseeching.

Byzantine rolled her eyes. "And here I thought you were the tenacious sort, Magyar."

"And here I thought you were the helpful sort, Byzantine." Magyar snapped. "But here we are two weeks after arriving at this smelly, overcrowded city of yours and the only new thing we've learned is that our kind grows at the same rate as regular human children for the first five years of our lives if born from an actual mother but otherwise have the same powers as grown up nations. That's really not that useful."

"You forget that we've also learned that the children of our kind's health doesn't become linked to the state of the government, land, or people until their parent starts to die. Meaning unlike us, the children of our kind was essentially completely immortal at the beginning of their lives. They're downgraded to semi-immortal like us only when they become actual nations in their own right." Byzantine countered.

"Still not very useful. I mean, what about that is useful in this situation here and now?" Magyar asked.

"Well, at least I know my baby can't die or get sick from things like a bad economy or even starvation or other things that kill humans." Kievan threw in. "It may not be some huge revelation, but it's something and I know more than I originally did."

Magyar went quiet. Looking down, Kievan saw a far away look in his eyes that made her frown worriedly.

"What? No snotty comebacks?" Byzantine questioned.

Magyar sat up and glared at Byzantine. "Shut up, I was thinking!"

"If you have to think of a comeback for more than five seconds you have missed your opportunity." Byzantine replied. "Speaking of opportunity, why don't we take a break and visit the bathhouse?" She suggested, setting the papers she had been looking at aside.

Kievan hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know." She murmured.

"What, too hot? Are you having hot flashes?" Byzantine asked, concerned.

Kievan Rus shook her head. "I've already told you I don't feel any of those strange pregnancy symptoms everyone talks about. Well, besides the sore feet—but that's it. What I'm hesitant about is…" Her eyes flickered quickly over to Magyar on the floor. Byzantine's eyes lit up with understanding.

"Oh, well I suppose we should stay in then." Byzantine said. "I apologize. I forgot for a moment that circumstances were more complicated than they appear."

"What's more complicated?" Magyar asked, standing to his full height and looking between the two women with suspicious eyes.

Byzantine shook her head at him. "It's a womanly issue. You should not concern yourself with it." She lied easily. Magyar frowned deeply at her.

"I don't trust you." He said and he turned to Kievan with a questioning look. "Slavko, what does she mean?" He asked.

"Just what she said, Magyar. It's a womanly issue."

Magyar scoffed. "You are terrible liars. You think yourselves clever, but really your lies are more transparent the air between us at this very moment." He narrowed his green eyes and put his hands on his hips. "Now tell me what's so complicated that it prevents us the simple pleasure of going to a bathhouse."

Kievan sent Byzantine a panicked look and then stared up at her irritated friend warily. How would they get out of this one, she wondered. She hoped Byzantine came up with a clever lie or ploy quickly. Across the desk, Byzantine heaved a sigh.

"You are what is so complicated." She said.

Kievan had to restrain herself from gaping at her friend in an unlady-like manner. Instead, she gave Byzantine a cold stare that reprimanded her for her actions. Byzantine didn't seem the least bit perturbed.

Magyar looked justifiably insulted. "Me?"

"Yes you." Byzantine replied as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "You're a boy and we're girls. We'd have to go in separate baths and frankly we don't trust you to be left in the company of other men without getting yourself in trouble. You got enough looks on the city streets when you were in the company of two respectable noblewomen and a soldier. Jesus Christ, what do think would happen if you were by yourself surrounded by nothing but men with distrustful eyes?" Byzantine asked, rolling her eyes.

Magyar blinked at her before he sagged disappointedly. "I guess you're right. Your people are really pretentious that way." He perked up and smirked down at Byzantine. "I bet your stupid bathhouses aren't as great as the stories say anyways. They probably smell bad like your harbors."

Byzantine glared at Magyar and Kievan knew she was biting her tongue to keep from making an unlady-like comment. Instead, she but on the icy mask of a true lady.

"Clearly those are the words of a jealous man." She said. "You men are all the same that way, how you insult what you can't have. How boorish."

Magyar stuck his tongue out at her. "More like the words of a woman in denial. Face it, your city stinks like a boar's hind end a hundred times over."

"Says the boy with the breath of a boar's hind end a thousand times over."

"Says the woman who bathes in bathhouses that smell like her dirty harbors."

"You know I have proficient martial training, right? I mean, you do remember what I did last time we met in combat, right?" Byzantine smirked. "Or did I hit your head a bit too hard?"

"No, my memory's just fine." Magyar replied with his own smirk. "A lot better than yours in fact if you actually think you won that fight."

Kievan smiled fondly at her friends as they bickered. It was actually rather entertaining when she knew there was no danger of them ripping out each other's throats in her presence. If only she had some nice juicy apples to enjoy as she watched.

* * *

Ionnu brought her the apples she requested several hours later as she flipped through the last pages of the last book of Hellas' records as she laid in bed. He entered her chambers after a soft knock at her door with a small sack and a broad smile.

"I caught him right as he was about to close up for the night." He announced as he approached her bedside. He dug an apple out of the sack and handed it to her.

"Thank you, Ionnu." Kievan said gratefully as she bit into the red fruit. She closed the book in her lap with her free hand and set it aside. Ionnu idled by her bedside, ringing the loose fabric of sack in his hands nervously.

Kievan raised an eyebrow at the young man. "Something wrong?"

Ionnu shook his head. "No, it's just…" He smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me but I do not wish to return to my bedchamber quite yet, My Lady."

"Why?" Kievan asked, giving him a wary up and down look.

Ionnu turned red and shook his head frantically. "No, no, nothing like that. I simply...My Lady, Magyar is a horrible bunk mate." The words flew out of his mouth all at once.

Kievan's eyes widened a fraction. "I…well, why?" She stammered out.

Ionnu squatted down and rested his forehead against the edge of her mattress.

"I've somehow managed to get past the fact that he's a barbarian, but he's still...He never shuts up." Ionnu admitted. "It's always, 'Ionnu, Ionnu!' and then he either tells me some rambling story about an animal he hunted or a horse he tamed or some adventure you two had together, or he begs for me to tell or even repeat a story from my own life. The stories were fun at first but now they're so boring and tedious and they make me want to gag the boy sometimes so maybe he'll stop talking for one second. It's exhausting when all you want to do is lay down to sleep." He sighed deeply. "I'm hoping to bide my time until he falls asleep."

Kievan smiled sympathetically at the young man. "You sound like a hen-pecked husband."

Ionnu looked up and smiled boyishly. "I was thinking the same thing." His eyes drifted shyly to the side. "Any ideas to fix things so it's less…annoying?"

Kievan reached out and brushed his dark curls away from his forehead. "Just give it time. When I first met him, I was a bit irritated by him, but he grew on me over time."

Ionnu chewed on his bottom lip. "Yeah, but you had hundreds of years for him to grow on you." He mumbled.

"Ionnu, give it time and I'm sure you'll come to find solace in Magyar's ramblings."

"If you say so…" He grumbled as he stood. "Sleep well, My Lady."

"Good night, Ionnu."

Kievan awoke later that night, or rather very early the next morning to find Byzantine leaning over her. Kievan scowled at her friend and rolled over. "Go away." She grumbled. Byzantine shook her gently once again. "Come on, let's go to the bathhouse before Magyar wakes up. Seriously, I need it." She whispered. Kievan groaned and turned onto her back with some effort to look up at her friend. Byzantine looked down at her with hopeful brown eyes and Kievan looked up with her tired violet ones. "Can we eat breakfast first?" She mumbled. Byzantine smiled and nodded her head. "Of course."

Ionnu was waiting for them at the front door and together the three of them took to the city streets, which were sparsely populated in the early hours-at least compared to how packed they were during the majority of the day. The closest bathhouse did not take long to find. Kievan and Byzantine headed to the women's bath while Ionnu resolved to take a dip himself in the men's bath.

The warm water was just what Kievan Rus needed to ease the tension that had been building the last few weeks in particular. She sank neck deep into the steaming hot water and let out a long sigh of relief. Byzantine did the same some feet away.

"Jesus, this feels nice after all that rummaging we did. I swear I have the worst knot in my back." The empire griped as she reached over her own shoulder to rub at her upper back as best she could.

Kievan titled her head back to wet her hair. "You've been rather liberal with the Lord's name lately. Don't tell me you've lost your faith, Lady Holier Than Thou." She teased her friend. Byzantine sent her an annoyed look briefly before shrugging her shoulders.

"I love my faith, I've said that, and I'll never give it up. It's just hard to follow all the rules sometimes when not even the church who made most of the rules in the first place can do it. Have you heard of that Marozia woman in Italy? She's the daughter of Theodora the Elder."

Kievan felt disgust at the mere mention of that woman. "I've heard more than a few things. She's a Pope Maker like her mother I take it."

Byzantine nodded her head gravely. "And just as dastardly. The whole family is making a mockery of the Christian faith. They're calling this day and age the Rule of the Harlots in Rome." Byzantine barked a bitter laugh. "I don't know whether that would make my father turn in his grave or rejoice in the after life. He was all about a good time and all but he grew to love Christianity in his final days. And then there are Romano and Veneziano. I hope those two boys aren't too wrapped up in that mess, because I know that would certainly anger Rome in heaven."

Kievan folded her hands on her stomach, feeling her child kick from within. She thought about how she might compare to the famous Roman Empire as a parent.

She had only heard things second hand about him, mostly from Byzantine, his primary successor and his eldest daughter. She knew he had many children besides Byzantine and kept many of them close and that he loved them each very much. Byzantine said that while she lived most of her young life in her mother's land, when she visited her father she felt nothing but love. He was a jovial man full of smiles and praise for his children. Byzantine said that when she was a little girl, Rome would scoop her up and toss her high in the air, telling her all the while she could go as high as she wanted someday, just like him and her mother before her. She heeded his words, to say the least.

Kievan hoped she could encourage her child like Rome encouraged his own. She wanted her son or daughter to grow into something great, something big and grand and all around impressive in every sense. But in order for that to be possible, she'd have to protect them and teach them and give them an example to follow. Kievan supposed she would just have to try and match the Empire, and then when she did that finally, she'd one-up him.

It was the perfect plan, she thought sarcastically.

She was no fool. She knew when something was easier said than done.

Still, it was something, Kievan told herself. Better than what she started out with; by miles when compared to Magyar's situations in the past.

Just thinking about that made Kievan uncomfortable and she shifted where she sat and shooed those thoughts away before they could make her feel worse. It took several minutes of shifting and trying to think of more pleasant things for the discomfort to pass. It returned with a vengeance shortly afterwards. She soon realized that remembering Magyar's circumstances wasn't the cause of her discomfort. Kievan groaned miserably.

"Not now!" She moaned. "We just got in!"

"What are you talking about?" Byzantine asked.

Kievan sighed and looked at her friend with exasperation. "It seems I've gone into labor."

Byzantine turned pale as a ghost and screamed for Ionnu.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. This took a lot of time. But hopefully it was worth the wait. **

**Remember, this is only part 4 of 6. **

**Just some notes for the time being...**

**Marozia was a real person and was a "Pope Maker". Look her and her mom Theodora up. Those ladies were seriously scary back in their day during what was known as the Rule of the Harlots. I certainly wouldn't want to get on their bad side. **

**Oh, and I'm holding a poll that you can find on my profile at the top or near it. It's asking who you guys think is the best OC from this series. It basically include every original character in this story from Linza, her siblings, and Petronia from this first arc to Kievan Rus, Byzantine, Magyar, and Ionnu in this arc. Please do vote! I'd love to hear who you guys liked the most. :)**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please follow and review and thanks for reading! **


	17. Bonus Three: Father

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Bonus #3-Father

* * *

"Awinita!" Chak called. "Awinita! I know you're here, I can sense you!" Chak huffed and crossed his arms. He really would rather avoid making threats, but sometimes his daughter gave him no choice.

"Awinita, if you don't come out right now than you can say goodbye to Lulu!" He threatened. A moment later, a little girl hesitantly emerged from the bushes, eyes focused on her feet. She approached him and stopped when she was within arm's length. Chak took a knee and gently took the girl's chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Awinita, why did you run off like that?" He asked her softly. Awinita whimpered.

"The other girls were making fun of me." She confessed. "They said no one wanted to be my friend, that no one in the world but you wants me, that even my mother didn't want me." Tears started streaming down her cheeks. She stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around Chak's neck. Chak returned the embrace, running a hand through her hair to try and sooth her.

"Don't listen to those girls. They're just ignorant humans who are scared after what they saw happen yesterday." He consoled his daughter.

He had escorted Awinita to this new village not even a week ago, knowing that it was about time she move along, as the humans in the previous village were becoming a bit fanatical about Awinita's status as a near-immortal, treating her like a deity rather than a child. Chak brought her to this new village, hoping that they would treat her more like a human than the last village. Sadly, yesterday, Awinita had been playing with the other children, climbing trees, and had fallen from a great height. The children had witnessed Awinita fall to the ground with a sickening crunch of bone and had let out screams that could be heard all the way back in the village. By the time Chak and the other villagers had arrived, however, Awinita had already fully healed, something that terrified the children to no end, even after their parents and the village medicine-man had explained what Awinita was and why they shouldn't be frightened.

"Father, I want to go back to the other village. They treated me nicely." Awinita mumbled into Chak's shoulder. Chak hefted his daughter from the ground and balanced her on his hip.

"Do you really want to go back there? I understand why you want to leave and I don't blame you, but are you really fine being treated like more like a goddess high above everyone else, treated with paranoid care and set apart from others, than being treated like just another little girl?" He asked, whipping away her tears. Awinita pouted her lips and shook her head. Chak pecked her on the forehead and gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll find a new village for you." He promised and he was relieved to see Awinita smile at his words.

He set her back on her feet and took her by the hand, leading her back to the village for dinner. They would leave in the morning, he silently decided.

"Father," Awinita whispered shyly. Chak looked down at her. "Yes?"

"Did my mother want me?" She asked. Chak felt his heart break for his daughter. She shouldn't ever have to ask a question like that. Not ever.

"Of course she did." Chak answered honestly, because he knew that Pallu wanted their daughter. He just knew it. He saw that fact the day she left the child in his land. Her heart was broken by her actions, he was certain.

"Than why did she leave me?"

"I don't know, little one." Chak replied sadly. It was a lie, though. He knew why Pallu had to abandon their daughter, but Awinita didn't need to know that. He didn't want her growing up resenting a being she might never meet for separating her from her mother. Chak didn't want his daughter growing up nurturing a deep-seated loathing for something as abstract and mysterious as the Mother, or anything really. No child should grow up hating something so greatly.

"Father, do you think I'll meet her one day?" Awinita asked. Chak smiled thinly down at her.

"I would hope so." Above their heads, something leaped down and landed atop Awinita's head with a tiny squeak. Awinita laughed with glee, her hands flying to her head to grab the small brown woodland critter.

"Lulu, there you are!" She cheered, grinning. Chak swore the tiny creature smiled at her before slipping out of her grip and crawling up her arm, onto her shoulder, where he cuddled into the crook of her neck. The tickling of brown hairs against her skin made Awinita laugh, a welcome change from her weeping.

Chak was glad that for at least a moment his daughter was able to forget her tears in favor of enjoying the company of her pet.

He was so glad he caught that little creature for her.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I wrote this on a whim awhile ago and planned to post it after Kievan Rus' arc was complete before starting either Byzantine's, Gaul's, Magyar's, or Poland's mother's arc. However, the next chapter is going to be a doozy and will be long and take some time to write. So this chapter will hopefully tide you guys over while I work. Kievan Rus' arc will continue next chapter. **

**Note that Awinita's name was changed because Pallu never told him what her birth name was, so he came up with his own. **

**I also would like to say that Lulu is probably of an ancestor species of squirrels. Chak caught him for Awinita so she'd have a companion for the rest of her life, since pets' lifespans become attached to nations' lifespans as per common headcanon.**

**Oh, and as a reminder, there's a poll running on my profile for the best OC in this series yet. The winner will get a bonus chapter all to themselves, each plot for the bonus chapter being particular to the winner. **

**Linza: A ghostly visit to see her son Petronia: Her first trip back to Rome with her father three years following Linza's death **

**Hailwic: Her life following her sister's death ****Egino: The birth of his daughter**

**Baltia: Her POV of her relationships with the most important boys in her life**

**Pallu: A closer look at the children she helped raise after abandoning her own daughter Achak: His death **

**Kievan Rus: Her childhood with Scandia Byzantine Empire: A look at her relationship with her family **

**Scandia: His childhood with Germania and his mother Magyar: He pays a discreet visit to the 'thing' was Part 1 of Kievan's arc**

**Ionnu: His past as a royal bastard in more detail **

**Please vote and I hope you enjoyed the bonus chapter! **


	18. Mstislava of Kievan Rus Part 5

Axis Powers: Hetalia

Mothers

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: The Mothers of the nations.

Chapter 17: Mstislava of Kievan Rus Part 5

* * *

Magyar burst through Pholos' door, Ionnu and Olympia in tow. Olympia carried a change of clothes for Kievan Rus in her arms. Magyar was immediately at Keivan's bedside, and Ionnu bolted the door shut behind the new arrivals. He went to shut the curtains of the front windows as well. "I need light!" Phobos protested. "Olympia, light some candles." Byzantine ordered hastily as she wiped Kievan's sweat-ridden brow with a wet rag. The servant woman jumped to work.

"You should have woken me—how could you forget to wake me?" Magyar whispered frantically, taking one of Kievan's hands in his. "I apologize, but as you can imagine, there were more pressing concerns. Besides, it'll be hours before I give birth." That truth annoyed Kievan more than she expected. She thought the birth of a child was supposed to breathtaking and thrilling, with her mind racing a million miles a minute and time flying by until her child was finally in her arms, screeching healthily. Instead, she was bored and aching and uncomfortable and as said, annoyed at how long it would take before she would give birth.

Human women were such liars.

Magyar frowned down at her. "Really because…" He trailed off, biting his lip. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "When I had my sons, they came so quickly, it was terrifying." He pulled away, red-faced. "Why's it taking so long with you?" He asked, crossing his arms and visibly doing his best to hide his great discomfort. Pholos came around and shooed the boy away from her bedside. "Every case is different, boy. Generalizing only leads to trouble, especially when it comes to such delicate matters." The man chastised Magyar. "It doesn't _feel _like a delicate matter." Kievan Rus lamented. There was a slew of chuckles around the room. Kievan glared at her so-called friends. "Don't laugh. I'm in serious pain, you insensitive trolls!" She barked at them. Everyone paled some and whispered their humble apologies.

Ionnu shyly stepped forward with a small sack in hand. "I brought you some apples." He informed her sheepishly, holding out the sack to her. Byzantine took the bag for her and handed a single apple to Kievan. The laboring nation bit into the juicy fruit with a groan of contentment. "Thank you, Ionnu." She told the young guard. He smiled triumphantly and took his seat in a stool in the far corner with an air of victory. That's what Kievan liked about young humans—even the smallest accomplishments, like bringing a person their favorite snack, made them feel like champions. She sometimes wished she could experience that.

"You best try and get comfortable. It'll be many hours before you can start pushing." Pholos warned her as he made his way into the backroom where he kept all his supplies. Kievan scowled at the wall between her and the physician. He wasn't nearly as helpful as his title implied. "That seems impossible." She said, and as if to drive home that point, another contraction wreaked havoc on her. Kievan groaned and everyone around her gave a start, inching towards her as if they had any hope of helping her.

Labor was making her very cynical, Kievan was beginning to realize.

"Slavko? You okay?" Magyar whispered anxiously, leaning over the cot. Byzantine gently pushed him away from the bed as she came around to wipe Kievan's brow once again. "Just let it pass. We'll find someway to pass the time and take your mind off the pain." Her friend told her softly. Magyar nodded his agreement.

Byzantine's face lit up with a smile as bright as the sun. "Oh, I know! How 'bout I recite some of my poetry for you!" She exclaimed. The groan Kievan let out was not from a contraction, as was made clear by the chorus Ionnu, Olympia, and Magyar provided.

* * *

Her daughter was born how most babies are born: covered in slick goo and squalling as if she'd endured ten minutes of Magyar's drunken singing or Byzantine's lectures on philosophy. Pholos did a remarkable job of soothing her before handing her over to her mother. Byzantine and Magyar tentatively approached Kievan's bedside with awed expressions. Having hid in the backroom, Ionnu and Olympia shyly poked their heads out the door. They beamed at the sight before them and stepped into the room fully, looking thrilled to bear witness to such a scene as a mother and child's first meeting.

"What will you call her?" Byzantine whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she gazed upon the newborn in her friend's arms. Kievan let her own tears fall freely as she answered, "Kateryna."

"Beautiful." Magyar declared wholeheartedly.

"Truly." Byzantine agreed.

"She'll grow into a nation to be proud of, powerful and great." Ionnu announced naively, wiping the smiles off the faces of the nations in the room as easily as dirt.

"Unfortunately." Kievan Rus whispered only loud enough for her child's innocent ears.

* * *

**A/N: SORRY! I didn't mean to take such a long hiatus on this story! I had terrible writer's block with it, and then I just got plain side tracked. At any rate, here's a new chapter. Part 6/6 will be coming soon, and then I'll do a chapter dedicated to the fabled Mother of the Nations. **


End file.
